


PMD: Change of Mind

by Vauruk



Category: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Original, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vauruk/pseuds/Vauruk
Summary: Attacked and on the verge of death, Lugia transfers his consciousness into the body of a Quilava from a nearby town. Stuck in the body of this young guild member, can he stop the force behind the murders of Legendary Pokémon?





	1. Chapter 1

The sea was cool that night, drifting him away from his slumber and into the stark waters of his lonely domain. He refused to let such a thing disturb him, however; he was not lonely, he was not cold.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a soft smile, and he let the tension in his wings dissolve, leaving them to hover in the water, shifting up and down in time with his breaths. As he calmed, the jagged walls of the rift he called home faded, and the sea thinned until it was crisp air. 

In his dream, he was standing atop Mt. Avalanche, overlooking the descending sun amidst gems of sparkling ice, and Articuno stood beside him, their wings brushing against each other. 

With his mate next to him, he was not cold; he was as warm as a sunny day.

“I really wish you would visit more often, Lugia,” Articuno said finally, drawing Lugia from his thoughts. “Physically, that is. Dreams can only feel so realistic to a non-psychic type.”

Lugia turned from the skyline to Articuno’s face, which was, to him, equally alluring, but then averted his eyes. “I’m sorry, but… you know why it is that I remain on the seafloor.” 

“I do, but it’s been so long since your last flight, and isolating yourself like this can’t be good for you, mentally or physically,” Articuno answered, lowering his head to meet Lugia’s downcast gaze. “Besides, you’ve been working on containing your power, haven’t you? I know you’re afraid, but I think you should try flying again – and I’m saying this only out of concern for you.”

The sincerity in the ice bird’s eyes was too much for Lugia to bear, so he turned away yet again. He looked out sadly at the snow-capped firs, embraced in a vestigial orange glow – if this weren’t a dream, one unchecked flap of his wings and the trees would be bare, with an unrelenting storm surely to follow. Working on containing his power… that had been wishful thinking. There was no permanent solution to his problem; the only regulator of his power was constant vigilance, a precise measurement of the movement of every muscle. Maintaining that for any length of time was utterly exhausting and it never got easier, so every flight above the water only further discouraged him from venturing out again.

Of course, how could he tell his own mate that he ought not to visit him outside of the dream world? The last thing he wanted was for Articuno to feel guilty about wanting to see him, but nor could Lugia allow himself to put more innocent lives at risk.

The gentle tickle of soft feathers against his back interrupted his self-deliberation.

“I’m sorry, Lugia,” Articuno sighed, stroking Lugia with his wing, “I know how sensitive you are regarding this subject. I worry, that’s all… Come, let’s speak of other matters.”

It was impossible for Lugia to be despondent when Articuno was so close to him. The touch of the glacial bird’s feathers was like the sunrise after a winter night. Gradually, a content smile returned to Lugia’s face. “Your patience and empathy never cease to amaze me, Articuno,” he cooed, and enveloped the ice type with his wings. Articuno tensed at the sudden embrace but soon leaned into it, and nuzzled into Lugia’s neck. 

In spite of it being just a dream, the physical contact was intoxicating. Perhaps he really should try leaving the sea again? …No, now was not the time to think of such things. Lugia rested his head on Articuno’s and closed his eyes.

Time became nonexistent for him then, but the dream world went on. With the sun’s departure, the mountain’s shadows yawned and stretched, eventually engulfing the two avians. Lugia didn’t notice until the increased cold chilled him to the bone. He shivered uncontrollably, and the air began to swirl and transform into the sea, and Articuno dissolved in a stream of bubbles.

With focus and the blink of an eye, the dream was back, and so was the comforting presence of Articuno’s body. Still, the cold lingered with a slight pain in the back of his head that prevented Lugia from enjoying the embrace further. Frowning, the psychic type unfolded his wings and gazed at Articuno.

Articuno ran his red eyes over him. “Is something the matter?”

Lugia shook his head. If Articuno didn’t notice anything, perhaps the water really was just cooler than usual. “It’s nothing,” he said, mostly for his own benefit. “Tell me, what has been happening on the surface? How are Zapdos and Moltres?”

Articuno clacked his beak and exhaled sharply. “Those Pidgey! They have had yet another falling out over some territory near the Giant Volcano, and I am afraid one of them will do something rash.”

“Come now,” Lugia said reassuringly, resettling by Articuno’s side, “from what I have heard of them, I do not believe they would truly harm one another. Besides, I’m sure you could talk sense into them.”

“You’re right, though it’s not themselves that I fear them harming,” the ice bird sighed. “And ever since they met you, they seem to listen to me less.”

Lugia furrowed his brow. “Hmm, perhaps I should speak with them, then.”

“Hopefully there will be no need for that, but thank you for the offer.”

With a flutter of his wings, Articuno pecked him on the cheek, but it only served to enflame the pain in Lugia’s head, and he was forced to recalibrate the dream once more.

Articuno chuckled, evidently misinterpreting Lugia’s reaction, and moved to face the mountain slope below. “I suppose I should ask you how you are doing at the bottom of the sea.” 

Lugia would have answered had he not been distracted by the cold, which had gotten almost unbearable, and there was something else, a mounting dread that was becoming impossible to ignore. “It… it is quite uneventful down here,” he said as he glanced around the summit. “Mostly, I dream to pass the time…”

“Is it dark down there?” Articuno asked.

“Yes, yes, it is,” Lugia responded automatically. It was then that he truly noticed the sky. Night had just begun, and this dream was his creation, so… where were the stars? Why was the sky pitch black, blacker than the deepest ocean?

“Is it cold?”

“Yes,” Lugia said, his voice faltering now. The ground was no longer snow and ice, but rock, and the air thickened until it was water. The dream was breaking apart against his will.

“I’m coming.”

The words made Lugia freeze, and with wide eyes he refocused on Articuno, but the ice bird was sprawled on the ground, his heart gouged out and the blood rising in tendrils towards the void above.

“I’m coming!” 

Ears ringing, Lugia awoke with a start, his breathing heavy and his heart racing. His eyes darted about the water, but it was dark, too dark. It was cold, too, creeping with an icy sting under his skin that made it difficult to move.

“Articuno, what happened?” he cried out telepathically. “Articuno!”

Lugia gritted his teeth and tried to think, but he felt horribly weak. Surely it was just the dream that was compromised? Nothing had physically happened to Articuno?

“Articuno’s gone,” the sea growled. Lugia whipped his head towards the origin of the sound, but he could see nothing through the blackness. With great effort, he flapped his wings and let himself float at a higher vantage point. The sound of the rushing water caused by his wing beats soon dissipated, and only silence remained.

There was no light, no sound. Lugia’s tail curled inward in fear.

From the corner of his eye he saw a pulse of dark purple energy heading straight for him, and just in time he summoned a protective barrier. The bluish shield cracked under the impact, kicking up a storm of dust and dislodged stone pieces of nearby walls, and disintegrated once the attack ceased.

The moment it did, a massive force slammed into his back, knocking him shortly towards the sea floor. Growling, Lugia turned his head to face his attacker, but there was no one behind him.

Another pulse of purple energy appeared directly in front of him, and he was too late to block it. It struck him in the stomach and knocked him out instantly.

When he came to moments later, he was prone on the rocky sea floor, and it hurt to move, hurt to breathe. His vision was blurry, but in perfect focus he could see the figure of Darkrai floating in front of him. Lugia tried to talk, but all he could do was groan unintelligibly.

“Your dreams, they are fascinating. I think I shall have them,” Darkrai rasped, slowly lifting a tattered hand. It began to glow with a pale light, and soon Lugia found himself enveloped by it. “Sleep now.”

It was the Dark Void, he knew – he could already feel the song of sleep probe the defensive walls around his consciousness. He couldn’t resist it for long, not in his condition. Even if he could, he was in no shape to fight Darkrai; the dark type had surely been Dream Eating for a while now. But why, why would Darkrai attack him?

Struggling to lift his head and keep his eyes open, Lugia looked at Darkrai pleadingly, but it was as though the dark type didn’t register his actions. Amidst his fading perception, he realized that something wasn’t right about Darkrai’s presence, and yet this situation was very real. He’d already lost feeling in his limbs, and now his head sunk limply back to the earth. Moments after, he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not.

His psychic defenses shattered, and sleep came flooding in with a sensation of soft velvet, a warm and cozy relief to the harsh cold that grasped his being. But there was no way he was going to let himself be taken so easily. With the last sliver of his consciousness, he knew there was only one possibility of escape, and he took it.

“Fascinating,” Darkrai said expressionlessly, but for Lugia the words were a lullaby.

At last, the legendary bird’s mind went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ren, wake up! C’mon, get up, it’s time for breakfast!”

The voice sent waves of pain through his head, and just being conscious seemed to make him sick. Briefly answering with a grumble, he nestled into the straw bed as though he could burrow into it and hide.

And for a moment he thought it worked, but then the voice was back. “Wake! Up! Sleepyhead!”

Promptly, he felt a gentle but insistent tugging on his ear. Grumbling again, he swatted at the offending limb with a paw.

_Wait, what?_

He opened his eyes, but the glaring light only intensified his headache. Still, he had to see. Squinting to keeps his watering eyes at bay, he waited until the world came into focus – and there, attached to his body, was a yellow, furry arm.

“Finally! Come on, let’s go!”

But Lugia didn’t even register the other Pokémon, or the room he was in. Following the arm, his gaze moved to his chest, underbelly, hind legs, then his blue-furred back. He wasn’t a Lugia; he had the body of an adolescent male Quilava!

With that realization came a rush of memories – Darkrai attacking him at the bottom of the sea, and then… The Transmigration, it must have worked! Part of him had feared that he wouldn’t know how to do it, or that it wasn’t possible at all, but here he was, a Quilava!

The relief of survival soon left him when he remembered Articuno, and the image of the ice bird’s mauled corpse stabbed at Lugia’s heart and wracked his body with shivers. He attempted to quell this fear by thinking of Articuno, alive and well. He thought of a random detail – the sparkling blue feathers of Articuno’s wings, the brilliant gleam that so many mistook as ice.

Releasing a shaky breath, Lugia calmed enough to think rationally. Darkrai had appeared under the sea, so there was no way Articuno could have been under physical attack at the same time. Still, there were so many unknown factors, and uncertainty only fueled his dread, but there was nothing he could do for his mate now. The best he could do was maintain hope and search for answers.

“Ren? Hellooo?” A Monferno moved directly into his view, and Lugia blinked. “Are you there?”

The Monferno stared at him expectantly. She was female, perhaps a bit older than his Quilava body, and getting impatient, judging by the flickering of the fire on her tail. But who she was wasn’t important. Raising himself to all fours, Lugia opened his mouth to speak, only to discover that his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. Furrowing his brow, he moved his jaw in various directions, and ran his tongue along the back of his teeth in an effort to adapt to it.

“I am not Ren,” he said finally, his voice understandably but nonetheless startlingly high-pitched and a bit slurred. “I am Lugia, and I need to talk to a Pokémon with authority.”

The Monferno remained still for a while, and then rolled her eyes. “Did you have a weird dream or something? Come on, we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

“This is no illusion, I truly am Lugia,” he insisted, although his voice sounded much whinier than he would have liked.

For a fleeting moment the Monferno lowered her head sadly, and she turned back to him with a sigh of resignation. “All right, fine, _Mr. Lugia_ , let’s go to breakfast. We’re late.”

Lugia wasn’t satisfied with that answer at all, but he had no time to dwell on it as the Monferno grabbed his paw and pulled him out of the room. It was only then that he noticed his surroundings, and realized he had no idea where he was – he asked the Pokémon pulling him forward, but she didn’t seem to hear.

Perhaps he could infer it, then. The room he’d just left was evidently only a sleeping area, as it was small and contained nothing but a pair of beds, boxes, and windows. There was a sign by the door with the names ‘Ren’ and ‘Sora’ written on it in excessively large handwriting – well, at least he knew the Monferno’s name now.

Presently, they moved through a hallway with about a dozen portieres that presumably led to more sleeping quarters. It was all very neat, nothing like the rocky caves and seafloors he was used to. Every aspect of the building seemed deliberate – the smooth, sandy colored floor, dotted with fake patches of grass; the jovially rounded bricks of the walls; the arched ceiling colored a light blue. It seemed rather infantile to Lugia, yet he, or at least the Quilava part of him, couldn’t help but feel somewhat soothed.

Before long, they emerged into a vast, skylit atrium, but Lugia could barely catch a glimpse of a few noticeboards and planted bushes before Sora veered him off into yet another corridor. This time, it wasn’t long at all before they stepped through an open door and found themselves at the side of a long table surrounded predominantly by young Pokémon.

“Ah, Sora and Ren, you’re just on time!”

Lugia heard the Nidoqueen who had spoken, but the sight of so many Pokémon petrified him. Immediately lowering his head as though only looking at them would cause him to lose control, he shuffled forwards in rigid paces. But upon seeing the paws of his feet, he remembered he was a Quilava now, and with a sigh of relief, he relaxed his muscles and let Sora guide him to the last two empty seats near the end of the table. He wasn’t a Lugia; there was no danger of him destroying the place.

“Good morning, Ms. Harlow!” Sora beamed, waving at the Nidoqueen. Then, she fiercely elbowed Lugia, who yelped instinctively. He understood immediately.

“Good morning, Ms. Harlow,” the Quilava repeated, giving the Nidoqueen a glance. From her position at the head of the table beside the other adults, she seemed to be a figure of authority, and thus probably the best Pokémon to talk to. “I need to speak with you.”

The earth type smiled politely. “I’ll see you after breakfast, all right?”

“This is matter of utmost urgency,” Lugia insisted, wrestling with his voice so that it wouldn’t sound as shrill as it did.

“After breakfast, Ren.”

“Please, this is important, I–”

“After breakfast,” the Nidoqueen said definitively, silencing him with a raised claw.

Scowling inwardly, Lugia let himself fall into the chair while Sora gave him a few reprimanding looks. He ignored them and bore a hole into the table with his glare – this breakfast couldn’t be over too soon.

“Now that everyone is here,” Harlow began, opening a journal and skimming through it briefly, “I’m afraid I have some bad news. As of yesterday, Jirachi and Ho-Oh are considered missing, and since then… more disappearances have taken place.”

Lugia’s ears perked up, and he waited for her to continue with bated breath. Most of the other Pokémon seemed to be deciding whether they wanted to listen or eye the food before them hungrily.

“Dialga, Palkia, Cresselia, and Celebi are said to have disappeared as well.”

Just like that, a great weight lifted from Lugia’s shoulders, and he slumped onto the table. If her information was accurate, Articuno was all right, at least for the time being. But Dialga, Palkia, Cresselia, and Celebi? What on earth could have caused them to “disappear,” if indeed that wasn’t a euphemism for death? There was no way Darkrai alone could be responsible. Even if the dark type could somehow reach them all within such a short span of time, no single Pokémon could hope to face so many Legendaries alone.

“Ren?” whispered Sora, jabbing him in the ribs. “You okay?”

Turning his head, Lugia saw the concern in her wide eyes and realized how distressed he must have looked. He gave her a reassuring smile and sat back up slowly. He’d concentrate on the disappearance mystery later – besides, other Legendaries were probably on the case already.

“Nobody knows how they disappeared,” Nidoqueen continued steadily amongst the ubiquitous chatter from the crowd, “and Modrall Exploration and Rescue Guild is hard at work investigating. In fact, these disappearances have become their utmost priority. Rest assured that the Guild will get to the bottom of this dreadful mystery – but as a result of their focus, they’ve transferred some of their missions to us. They’re counting on us, so we should do our best to help out!”

Excited murmurs and a few hollers of agreement could be heard from the children seated around the table, but the possessed Quilava had gone paler still. Modrall Town? 

Of course it had to be Modrall Town. 

It was completely reasonable that he wake up here, given that it was the closest settlement to the Surrounded Sea, but with everything going on, this probability had completely slipped his mind.

“Now then, let’s have breakfast and a good day of work!”

With that, the room was filled with the sounds of chewing and shuffling as the Pokémon fought for the best pieces of food, but Lugia only shrank back into his chair and tried to avoid looking at anyone. How would these Pokémon react if they knew that he was the one who had caused the Great Hurricane of Modrall three years ago? How many of them had lost friends or family members to the unprecedented storm?

It had been an accident, it really had. He’d been flying over the sea with Articuno. The ice bird had been in a chipper mood, whirling about in a blue blur, and Lugia had tried to imitate one of his maneuvers… A great rumble had echoed throughout the sky, and it was instantly clear what Lugia had done. Terrified, he’d nose-dived straight into the sea and refused to surface for months, especially not after Articuno had informed him of the results of the storm – torn houses, flooded streets… The death count had not been low here in Modrall Town.

“What’s wrong, Ren, you not hungry?” Sora asked him through the large chunk of apple in her mouth.

Dazed, the Quilava slowly wiped the resulting spittle from his fur. “I am not,” he answered.

Sora shrugged and redirected her attention on devouring the food. Biting his lip, the Quilava attempt to pacify himself by thinking of Articuno. The townspeople wouldn’t hold a grudge, would they? In fact, in all likelihood, they didn’t know it was his fault, and his name hadn’t been amongst the list of the disappeared Pokémon. Perhaps they didn’t even know he lived in the Surrounded Sea!

It was a sordid thought, but an encouraging one nonetheless. Feeling slightly better now, he eyed the selection of apples and berries in front of him. Even though he didn’t have much of an appetite, skipping a meal was unwise.

Grudgingly, he grabbed an apple. To his new eyes, it looked tantalizingly enormous, and to his new nose, its scent was delightful. Perhaps he was hungrier than he’d thought. He took a small bite and the sweet taste made his mouth water, and with a newly found voraciousness, he scarfed it down and took another.

By the time he’d eaten his fill, several Pokémon had left the table, but all the adults remained, and Sora was still eating, too. The conversation he was seeking to have was best to be had in private, so he was forced to wait. Fortunately, now that he knew Articuno was all right for the time being, waiting no longer seemed as much of a sin.

At least it gave him some much-needed time to think. Somehow, he needed to return to his Lugia body, and hopefully he would know what to do then, just like he instinctively knew how to Transmigrate. However, assuming his body was still in the same place, reaching the bottom of the sea as a fire type wouldn’t be easy. The only way Pokémon who couldn’t survive underwater could get there was by spawning a mystery dungeon – but the ability to do that was extremely rare, and he had never bothered researching it. He would have to look into it now.

The next questions concerned his body, the Quilava called Ren. Lugia had adapted to it quickly enough, but some aspects of it were still unknown to him. Abilities, for instance – he’d need to discover what this Quilava was capable of doing if he wanted to get anywhere. That being said, perhaps Lugia would be able to accelerate the fire type’s learning – any extra power would be useful.

Another mystery was who Ren was, and why Lugia had possessed him. Not much was known about Transmigration since it was such a rare and frowned upon ability, but he doubted the host was chosen purely at random. Given that he was in Modrall Town, proximity was probably a factor. What else, then? Not age, strength, or intelligence, clearly. The Quilava’s own consciousness was still present, albeit sitting back meekly in a far corner of his mind, and from what very little Lugia could detect from it, he could tell that Ren was below average in just about everything. So were many of the other children around him, in fact. From what Lugia had glimpsed of them, very few of them seemed to be entirely physically or mentally sound.

Absentmindedly, Lugia wiggled the digits of his little paws. No, this was all secondary. What he really needed to focus on was how he would reach the bottom of the Surrounded Sea.

Just as this crossed his mind, he heard the scraping of a chair at the head of the table and looked up to see Harlow leave the room. The Quilava was about to follow her when he noticed Sora, who was munching on what must have been her fourth Oran Berry. Frowning, Lugia nudged her and said, “I am going to see Harlow.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you here,” she answered, and fortunately Lugia had preemptively shielded himself, so this time around his face remained clean.

With a final nod to Sora, Lugia hopped off his chair and retraced his steps back to the atrium. It was much more crowded now, with several Pokémon loitering around the bulletin boards and others walking to and from the sleeping rooms, but Lugia managed to spot Harlow just as she closed a door behind herself at the other end of the hall.

As he strode by, several Pokémon greeted him, but he dismissed them with thoughtless pleasantries and made his way straight to the door. However, one of the boards caught his eye, and he deviated from his course to get a closer look.

“Dungeon Requests,” the pastel letters at the top read. Below were pinned dozens of papers with various messages and pleas written by Pokémon for mystery dungeon escorts, searches, and the like. What was odd, though, were the dungeons – he recognized them, and the vast majority of them were extremely short and harmless. Yes, the primary population of this place was children, but if this was an exploration and rescue guild like it seemed to be, surely they could handle something a bit more challenging?

Scratching the fur on his chin, he decided to let it go for the time being and continued unobstructed to the closed door, which was conveniently marked “Ms. Harlow’s Office” at the center. With a deep breath, he gave it a few knocks.

“Come in!” came the Nidoqueen’s voice, and Lugia pushed open the door with surprising ease.

Once he closed the door, the room was plunged into silence, and Harlow smiled at him from behind a desk, inviting him to approach with warm eyes. The room itself seemed very friendly, with plenty of sunshine filtering through the side windows and illuminating numerous letters and kids’ drawings that hung from the opposite wall, above a few boxes and chests.

As he neared the table, Harlow reached into a bowl. “Good morning, Ren! Would you like a Plain Seed?”

“No, thank you,” the Quilava said, shifting his weight to one foot as he tried to find the right words for the difficult conversation that was soon to come.

The Nidoqueen retracted her claws from the bowl and put her hands together. “What can I do for you?”

Lugia gazed at her firmly; confidence was key. “This will be difficult for you to believe, but please listen to me and do not interrupt until I have finished.”

Already, Harlow narrowed her eyes at his demeanor, but she said nothing.

“The disappearances of the Legendaries you spoke of this morning are not disappearances, but attacks,” Lugia went on, unblinking. “I know this because I am Lugia the First of the Surrounded Sea, and in order to escape my attacker I Transmigrated – that is, transferred my consciousness – into this Quilava.”

Harlow’s expression faltered, and just like that, Lugia had lost her. “Ren, have you been taking your medicine?”

The Quilava frowned, unable to hide his discontent. Why couldn’t she just listen? “I am not Ren.”

The Nidoqueen nodded her head knowingly and stood up from her chair. To Lugia’s surprise, she stepped over to him and scratched him gently behind the ear. “I’m sorry about this, Ren,” she said, bending her knees so that their eyes were level. “Come, let’s go the infirmary and get you your seeds.”

She tried to direct him towards the door, but his fur bristled and he ducked out from her hold. “You think I’m… delusional?”

The Nidoqueen’s sympathetic gaze said it all. 

Lugia backed away from her with wide eyes. Of course, now everything made sense. Not only was this an exploration and rescue guild for underage Pokémon, it was a guild housing the mentally or physically unsound. Scowling inwardly at his apparently unending stream of misfortune, he raised his paws in surrender.

“Given Ren’s mental disorder, the conclusion you have reached is understandable,” he said, slowly lowering his arms and returning to the Nidoqueen’s side. “Therefore, I will voluntarily take whatever treatment you give me. And, once you see this ‘delusion’ persists, hopefully you shall believe me.”

Harlow said nothing but held his paw and walked with him out the door. Emerging into the atrium, everything seemed somehow familiar now that Lugia knew what this place was – the absurdly simple requests, the emphasis on organization, the soft aesthetics… He wondered what ailed all of these Pokémon. Weren’t some of them healthy, like Sora appeared to be? What disorder did this Quilava even have?

Fortunately, the trip to the infirmary was short; they had only turned right upon leaving Harlow’s office and moments later reached a doorway with a red cross sign. After exchanging greetings with a Blissey receptionist, the two progressed to a shelf in the back with a palette of seeds, berries, and TMs. Harlow motioned for Lugia to wait, and so he did while she retrieved two seeds.

“Here we are, Ren!” Beaming, she offered him a Heal Seed and a Dropeye Seed.

The Quilava accepted them with a raised brow. On their own these seeds were rather unspectacular, but in combination they could have entirely new effects, effects that could alleviate symptoms like hallucination and delusion. Perhaps he really should have learned more about advanced seed properties, but ultimately the seeds he was taking were irrelevant as long as Harlow believed he was in a sound state of mind.

Without further hesitation, the Quilava downed the seeds and watched as Harlow released the breath she had been holding. No doubt she thought he was “healed” now, but all the seeds had done was make him grimace at the bitter taste they left on his tongue.

“How are you feeling now, Ren?” she asked after a minute or two, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Lugia blinked a few times, as if confused. “I am well, thank you.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, giving him a few scratches under the chin. “Make sure not to forget to take the seeds every evening, alright?”

His fur tickled where Harlow had touched it, but the Quilava kept his face blank. “Certainly. Now, may we return to your office to resume our discussion?”

Harlow froze and looked into his eyes. “You mean, you’re still…”

“I am Lugia, yes. This is not a delusion.”

The Nidoqueen’s expression turned grave, and she grabbed his paw once again. “Follow me.”

Her grip was firmer than last time, and he didn’t have much of a choice. As they walked, she never made eye contact with him, and a gut feeling made him doubt that she believed him.

Upon entering Harlow’s office, the Nidoqueen released his paw and returned to her chair. Frowning, she cleared some space on her desk and opened a thick book to a half-filled page. Lugia shuffled over and gave it a peek; at the top was written “Ren.” She wrote down the date and began recording observations about him and what he had said.

The Quilava lowered his head. “You still do not believe me,” he stated, and rubbed his temples. “What must I say to convince you?”

Harlow looked up at him from her writing. “I concede that you seem to be a foreign entity, but before we proceed, I must be certain. If you are who you claim to be, you must understand that there are many Pokémon capable of possession with ill intent.”

She was right, and Lugia nodded grudgingly. She held up a claw.

“Whoever you are, you must promise me that you will do your utmost to keep Ren from harm,” she said, her tone sterner now, “and that you will return to your original body once your business is done.”

Then, her hand curled into a fist and the earth rumbled. “If I find that you have harmed Ren or any of the Pokémon here, I will not stop until you have paid for your actions. Is that clear?”

Wobbling on his feet, Lugia widened his stance to steady himself, and bowed respectfully. She may or may not have believed she was threatening a Pokémon who could incapacitate her with one flap of the wings, but all the same, her unfaltering protectiveness was admirable. “Very well, you have my word,” he answered, putting a paw above his heart. “I wish nobody here any harm.”

Exhaling, the Nidoqueen lowered her arm, and her face brightened with a smile. “Wonderful! Now then, the first order of business is identifying you. In order to do that, I ask that you to head to the Hill of Beginnings, where you’ll find a Xatu named Eutak. He will be able to determine who you are. Of course, your sister should come with you, and I will also assign Sabre to supervise your trip – he is a Sandslash and a very capable explorer.”

Lugia only tilted his head. “Sister? Ah, Sora…”

“Yes, Sora,” Harlow repeated, closing the book and rising from her chair. “Speaking of whom, if you haven’t told her yet or she doesn’t believe you, she will probably discover the truth on this expedition. Otherwise, however, I think it would be best if you went on pretending to be Ren, so as not to draw attention to yourself.”

Lugia looked down at the pads of his paws, observing for the umpteenth time the body he currently inhabited. It was disappointing that he had to go through with this charade of proving his identity, but he knew Harlow wouldn’t change her mind, and she would be of no use to him until she believed him. “Understood.”

“All right, I’ll inform Sabre and have him wait for you at the entrance,” the Nidoqueen said, and opened the door for him. “Please come see me once you return.”

Nodding, Lugia followed her and stopped outside the doorway. This wasn’t exactly the most efficient way to begin the journey back to his Lugia body, but it was a start.

“I do have one favor to ask,” he said, putting his paws together in plea. He did not have to attempt to fake sincerity this time. “Regardless of whether you believe me, if it is within your power, please send a message to Articuno the Third of Mt. Avalanche. I believe he may be in danger, and I cannot allow anything to happen to him.”

Harlow’s gaze was fixed to one of the drawings on the wall. “It may take a few days, but I should be able to have it delivered. What’s the message?”

Lugia stalled. Though it couldn’t have been more than a day since they last spoke, there was much he wished to say to Articuno, but in the interest of convenience, it was probably best to keep it short. “Tell him I’m alive and in Modrall Town, and to stay on his guard – more attacks are possible.”

“Very well,” the Nidoqueen said, her eyes glazed over. “Good luck.” 

She closed the door, and with that, he was back in the noise of the atrium.

After standing there for a few moments, Lugia made his way back towards the dining hall, where Sora was hopefully done eating and waiting for him. It frustrated him how much time he was being forced to waste, and he had a feeling that having to endure the antics of these Pokémon would soon wear his patience thin. But in the end, since he was no longer his powerful Lugia self, he would need the assistance of other Pokémon, and that meant doing what was expected of him, regardless of how trivial it was.

Well, he thought to himself as he stalled by the corner that led to the dining hall, at least now he’d find out how he behaved around children, and ordinary Pokémon in general.

Taking a deep breath, Lugia – no, Ren, as he needed to start calling himself – rounded the corner, ready as he’d ever be for his adventure amongst “mortals.”


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Lugia returned to the dining hall, it was almost entirely deserted, save for a few insatiable eaters and – or rather including, he supposed – Sora. Fortunately, she was done eating by then and was instead biding her time by picking splinters from the table.

However, her expression was vacant, as opposed to the grumpy boredom or hyperactivity he’d have expected from a child. Then again, it was true that she was one of the oldest and seemingly healthiest members of the guild, which made him breathe a little easier, knowing that she was likely to be relatively self-sufficient on their trip.

She noticed him come in and her face brightened. “You’re finally back!” she said, jumping from her stool and bounding over to him. “What did you have to see Harlow for, anyway?”

Lugia opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, she put an arm around his neck and steered him towards the hallway, back to the atrium.

“I really hope there’s a MERG mission we can do together,” she continued, her pace brisk and her entire body practically quivering with energy.

For a moment, Lugia didn’t understand her, but then he realized she was referring to Modrall Guild, and it was irrelevant. With his little feet, he had to trot to overtake her and stop her with a raised paw. “Actually, Harlow has asked us to go to the Hill of Beginnings with Sabre,” he said, gesturing towards the gate that was presumably the guild exit. “We are to meet him at the entrance.”

Tilting her head, Sora looked into his eyes curiously, as if searching for something. “Really? She told you that?”

Lugia nodded, and stepped towards the aforementioned direction, assuming she’d follow.

She quickly reappeared by his side, still eyeing him uncertainly. “What else did she say? What are we supposed to do there?”

Choosing to ignore the question, Lugia kept walking until he reached the pillars of the open gate. After briefly glancing out of it and observing the Pokémon who were leaving, he sat down on the cool floor while Sora stayed standing in front of him.

“Can you tell me what you had for breakfast today, Ren?” she asked suddenly.

At first the question seemed random, but when Lugia noticed her set expression, he realized its purpose. She wanted to test his memory, to see what kind of mental state he was in. Perhaps some days were better than others for Ren, and she wanted to know whether what he was saying was true.

Well, everything would proceed much faster if she could take his word for it. “I ate three apples,” he answered, scratching an itch behind his ear casually.

The words had the intended effect; the hesitation vanished from her face and without any further question, she sat down next to him. The warmth radiating from her was relaxing, as unusual as it was to him.

“This is weird,” she mumbled, scanning the hall for any sign of Sabre. “How long are we supposed to wait?”

Lugia turned his eyes to the door to Harlow’s office and shrugged, wondering the same thing. Who knew how long it would take for the Nidoqueen to explain the entire situation to Sabre? Regardless, Lugia tried to keep his impatience and anxiety at bay. There was no ill news of Articuno, and a message was to be delivered to him within a few days. What more could he do? There was no way for him to affect current events.

Fortunately, their wait lasted only a few minutes. The door opened and out stepped a Sandslash, whom Lugia immediately assessed. Judging by the slightly paler hue of the ground type’s hide and the poor state of some of his quills, he was in his late thirties - a fairly old age for the species, but he was certainly still in very good shape, if the definition of his muscles and the sharpness of his claws were any indicator. The scars of varying age and type scattered over his body bespoke of an active fighter’s life.

Of course, the Hill of Beginnings, a D-ranked dungeon at best, hardly called for such power. Clearly, Harlow hadn’t held back in her choice of a Pokémon who would keep an eye on them.

“There you are!” Sabre yelled from across the hall, having spotted the two fire types and presently striding towards them.

“Hi, Mr. Sabre!” Sora said, leaping to her feet.

The Sandslash stopped in front of them and gave them a glance that rather lingered in Lugia’s direction. “It’s just Sabre, kid.”

All Lugia had time to do was bow his head in greeting before Sora asked, “Ren told me we’re going to the Hill of Beginnings, is that true?”

Sabre nodded, and the Monferno let out a whine. “But why? We wanted to help with the MERG missions…”

“Hey, this might not be a mission from the Big Guild, but it’s a mission that Harlow requested personally,” Sabre answered, giving her a stern look. “And trust me, it’s an important one.”

“What’s so important about it, and why do _we_ have to do it?” Sora continued, and seeing her ineffectiveness, she pouted and turned to Lugia, no doubt with the hope that he’d side with her. 

The Quilava merely shrugged his shoulders, his eyes switching between focusing on Sabre and gazing into the distance. It would probably be best if he pretended that he didn’t know what was going on and let events unfold as they arrived.

Putting a claw on her head, Sabre leaned down to look into Sora’s eyes and suppressed a grin. “Well, Harlow wanted to give this mission to the strongest, most dependable Pokémon, but”–he straightened himself and sighed–“if you’re not up to it, I understand.”

Sora huffed, jets of smoke blowing from her nostrils, while Lugia raised a brow at their antics.

The Sandslash must have seen, because he turned to him next. “Oh, so you think you’re some hotshot, huh?” he challenged, his grin more pronounced now, but accompanied by a cold stare. If it hadn’t been obvious already, it was now clear that Sabre knew of Ren’s possession. “Let’s stop wasting time, then!”

Lugia shook off the distrust from Sabre’s glare. Was it really so hard for others to believe that he meant no harm? Frowning, he trotted after the other two Pokémon, who had begun their walk.

When he stepped into the sunlight, his breath caught in his chest and he stopped. It was so bright, so warm! He remembered the sun from his time on the surface and dreamt of it, of course, but this was different – the way the sun soaked his fur with warmth, warmth that seeped into his muscles and filled them with energy… the flames on his back danced cheerfully. This was _real_.

His entire body begged to scamper ahead, but he resisted it with a smile. Was this his new body being more sensitive, or had he really lost touch with life above water? Pressing his paws against the cool dirt, he realized it didn’t matter. He was there now, able to experience the surface world without fear of destroying it, and that was a blessing. Articuno was right; dreams really didn’t do it justice.

Taking deep breaths of salty air, he allowed himself a few more seconds of simply relishing the sunlight before he turned back to see the guild. It was just as inviting as it looked on the inside, with its smooth, soft lime exterior. Above the gate hung a sign with words that finally confirmed his suspicions: “Guild for the Young and Challenged.”

“What’s the matter, Ren?” Sora called.

It took a moment for Lugia to remember his new identity. Mentally berating himself for his folly, he turned around to see that the Monferno was watching him not with concern, but with happiness. His mood must have appeared cheerful indeed, but he couldn’t answer honestly.

“It’s a nice day out,” he replied after catching up with them.

“That it is!” Sabre agreed, gesturing upward. “It’s been a darn good fall, this one. We’ve grown more berries than ever, and there’s scarcely been a cloud in the sky the last week. Really good weather for exploring – at this time of the year it often starts getting real foggy or rainy, which is a right pain in the tail. I don’t think I have to tell you fire types about that, though. But, you know, you could do with the endurance training…”

It wasn’t long before Lugia tuned out the Sandslash and focused instead on his surroundings. Being a psychic type, he’d seen and heard the town in Articuno’s memories, but experiencing it through the eyes of a little Quilava made everything feel grander and more vivid. 

Presently, they arrived at the town square, a spacious area at the edge of which stood several businesses which he instantly recognized – Kecleon Market, where various goods were sold; Kangaskhan Storage, the place to store items and money; and Ramparados Box Buster, an establishment whose purpose was fairly self-explanatory.

However, they did not stop, so presumably they had enough items in the bags Sora and Sabre carried. They kept walking down the same path, which seemed to stretch the entire distance between the shore and the other end of town. The farther they got, the less noticeable the salt in the air was, and the plainer the surrounding houses became.

At long last, they reached the outer wall of town and went straight on until a fork in the road. They followed the directions of a wooden sign and took a left, and the Hill of Beginnings came into view.

“We’re almost there,” Sabre said, motioning for the fire types to stay by his side. “Have either of you been to the Hill of Beginnings before?”

Lugia didn’t know how to respond, so he turned to Sora, who nodded eagerly.

“Alright, so you’re a little familiar with how it looks. I’ll let you two take the lead, but don’t go running off too far, you hear? Always stay within my sight. You can pick up items you find, but don’t use them before I see them.”

“I know how to recognize items,” Sora said, crossing her arms.

Sabre smiled and knuckled the top of her head. “Famous last words, kiddo.” He cracked his neck. “Lastly, it’s rare here, but if you happen to see another Pokémon, call me; don’t battle unless I say so.”

Lugia said nothing but raised his brows. Being protective was one thing, but this seemed a bit extreme. Then again, since Sora seemed healthy, these precautions were probably meant more for him. Either way, he hoped that he would at least get a chance to discover what abilities Ren had.

As the thought crossed his mind, he noticed a wooden pole painted red at the end standing by the road – the mark of a mystery dungeon. 

“Off you go, kids; I’ll be right behind you,” Sabre said, stifling a yawn.

With that, Sora assumed her position close by Lugia’s side, and the two of them walked ahead. 

Of course, the pole had only indicated the farthest known reach of the dungeon; they didn’t actually enter the dungeon until a few minutes later, when the grass became taller than even Sabre, and the only reasonable way to progress was to stay within its maze of paths.

Fortunately, Lugia knew that this dungeon was of a fairly simple configuration, such that all he had to do to guarantee reaching the top was stick to the right wall. This straightforward plan also gave him a chance to focus on other things. Closing his eyes, he probed the depths of his consciousness and was able to sense the presence of Ren’s spirit. He opened himself up to it, and while he wasn’t able to access the Quilava’s memories, he did gain a closer understanding of the condition of his body and the abilities he knew how to execute.

Breathing in with his diaphragm, he started by exhaling clouds of black smoke and promptly waved them away with a paw, though they left a surprisingly pleasing scent and taste in his mouth. Next, he angled his head upwards, contracted several specific muscles in his throat, and tried again, this time producing a small plume of fire.

He then tried flaring up the fire on his head and shaping it around himself, but it wouldn’t coalesce into the desired Flame Wheel move.

“Wow, Ren! That Ember was really good!” Sora exclaimed, surprising Lugia before he could feel disappointment towards Ren’s capabilities. “Can you do it again?”

Tilting his head, Lugia turned to her. Was she… no, she wasn’t mocking him; her eyes were wide with amazement. Obligingly, he shrugged and spat out a puff of flame.

It was hardly impressive, yet Sora clapped her hands together and suddenly grabbed him into a hug. “You did it, Ren!” she said into his fur, and gave his back a few rubs.

Lugia stiffened, unsure of how to interpret the situation. Was Ren not adept at breathing fire? The back rubs felt nice, though, so he returned the gesture somewhat awkwardly by patting her on the head. She twitched as though she hadn’t been expecting it.

She soon released him but kept looking at him with a mixture of pride and awe. “Yesterday you could barely manage a spark! What’s gotten into you?”

Seeing her unbridled joy tempted him to play along, and he licked his lips, rather appreciating the smoky residue. “I simply tried a new approach, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s great!” She smacked him on the shoulder encouragingly. “I’m sure it won’t be long before you learn Flame Wheel, then!”

Lugia shrugged at that, turning his gaze to the ground. It was still a bit discouraging that Ren didn’t know the move, but it was a physical endeavor rather than a mental one, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Fortunately, on the grass, he saw an opportunity to change the subject in the form of a Tiny Reviver Seed. “Here,” he said, picking it up with his paw and handing it to her, “these can always be useful.”

Apparently he’d grossly miscalculated, because the smile vanished from her face, which turned ashen. “Ren,” she said quietly, eying the seed, “do you know what seed this is?”

Stopping in surprise from her drastic change in emotion, he returned her gaze worriedly. “Yes, of course,” he answered hesitantly. “It’s a Tiny Reviver Seed.”

Only once the words were spoken did he realize that Ren was perhaps never this well-informed.

“Ren, you…” Sora wrung her wrists. “You’ve never been able to remember seeds before. Are you… are you feeling _better_ , Ren?” Her voice quivered now. “The healers said you’d never get better, but… I always thought that maybe, one day, you’d… you’d go back to...”

Lugia raised his paws in an attempt to placate her. “Sora, I’m afraid you misunderstand. If I am displaying signs of improvement, it is because–”

“Is there a problem, kids?” said Sabre, running up to them from behind. His eyes darted between them concernedly, as though he’d expected them to be hurt.

“It’s Ren, I think he’s gotten better!” Sora said, a smile bringing back the color to her face and the shine to her eyes. Enthusiastically, she practically pushed Sabre towards Lugia, and showed the Sandslash the seed. “Look, he recognized this seed! And listen to him talk!”

Sabre frowned, and he gave Lugia a glare. Lugia withdrew a little, acknowledging his mistake.

“I’m sorry, Sora, but a condition like Ren’s doesn’t simply disappear,” the ground type said, placing a reassuring claw on the Monferno’s shoulder. His eyes were still locked onto Lugia, who got the message – stay quiet. “He may appear to have improved, but it could just be a phase. Let’s wait at least until we get to the summit, okay?”

“But just listen to him talk!” Sora pleaded, desperately turning to him.

Lugia did his best to stare blankly forward and remain silent. Even though he’d been aware that Ren had some disorder, he’d never thought about how to act it out. And although he didn’t particularly care to solve these Pokémon’s problems, he didn’t want to cause Sora any undue grief, either.

Sora seemed to be on the verge of breaking down because of his refusal to speak, but Sabre stepped between the two of them. “Let’s get going, we’re almost at the top,” he said firmly, guiding the other two by their hands. “Trust me, Sora, your questions will be answered once we get there.”

Would they? As they continued on in tense silence, Lugia attempted to envision how his encounter with Eutak would proceed. Among mortals, Xatu were known for their psychic abilities, especially in regard to identifying spirits and foretelling prophecies, but of course this power was trivial compared to Lugia’s own. If Eutak should attempt to probe or expel Lugia’s consciousness, he would fail. Hopefully, that itself would be evidence enough of Lugia’s identity.

But how would Sora take it? Because of him, she was so very hopeful that Ren had miraculously recovered. Would she react aggressively to someone possessing her brother, or would she understand what was at stake?

Perhaps he could improve the situation if he knew what disorder the Quilava had, but he had next to no information about it. All he knew was that Ren suffered from delusion and memory impairment, and that he had not always had this condition. What caused it, then? Head injury, psychological trauma, evolutionary dysfunction? It was impossible to know.

Whatever the answer, and whatever the outcome of this encounter, Lugia knew that his mission remained the same. He would ignore these Pokémon’s protests and leave them if he had to. The idea made him uncomfortable, especially given the grief he’d already caused, but returning to his body was paramount.

As the slope of the hill gradually decreased, and the grass that made up the walls of the dungeon grew shorter and gave way to the widening path, Lugia knew they were getting close. Presently, they were high enough to see Modrall Town in the distance, perched at the edge of the land. Indeed, only minutes later, they came across another pole, this one painted green – the universal symbol of a fixed location in a dungeon, and, in this case, the dungeon’s end.

“We’re here,” Sabre announced punctually, stopping briefly to examine the clearing. There was nothing remarkable about it save for one bare sycamore in the dead center. 

On one of the branches was perched a green Pokémon, facing away from them.

“Let’s go,” the Sandslash said, somewhat hushed, as though not to disturb. The two fire types followed him until they stood beneath the Xatu.

Before any of them could speak, the psychic bird unfurled his wings and turned around slowly to face them. “Greetings, Sabre, and children of Modrall,” he said in a smooth, deep voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sabre merely scoffed. “Cut the act, Eutak, we’re here on important business.”

Lugia couldn’t help but gape at the Sandslash’s bluntness, but it was even more surprising when Eutak laughed aloud and fluttered down from the branch.

“All of you, think of a number from one to ten,” the Xatu said mysteriously, leaning close to Lugia and Sora. His voice was suddenly higher pitched and scratchy. “Actually, don’t bother! From youngest to oldest, you were going to think of, uh, nothing, three, and seven.”

“Eutak,” Sabre warned, taking a step forward.

The Xatu seemed completely oblivious and kneeled in front of Sora, who regarded him with wide eyes. “Don’t worry, Sora, your deepest wish will be fulfilled within the month. Oh, and try eating a smaller breakfast; better for the health.”

Sora gasped. “How… how do you know my name?”

Eutak never stopped to listen to her question and hopped towards Lugia. “Ah, a younger brother!” he exclaimed dramatically. “Ren, is it? Hmm, be careful out there, buddy, I see great loss in your future.”

Lugia refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction and simply stared at him, unimpressed. This was elementary telepathy combined with completely ambiguous statements. For whatever reason, he’d expected Eutak to be a wise old creature, but instead he was a clown, using his powers for mischief and entertainment – behavior that, as a psychic himself, Lugia did not condone.

“Eutak!” Sabre snapped, his voice rumbling down the hill.

The Xatu froze for a moment, then let his wings droop and sighed. “Fine, fine, ever the killjoy. What do you need me for?”

Glancing at both fire types, Sabre shook the quills on his back. “We have come because we believe a foreign entity has possessed the Quilava, Ren.”

“What?!” Sora shouted, jumping up and attempting to rush to Lugia’s side, but Sabre stopped her. Lugia pretended not to hear.

“Oh, interesting,” Eutak mused, lowering his head to inspect the fire type in question. His eyes were sharper now, signifying preparation for more advanced telepathy. “What led you to such a belief?”

Sabre simply pointed at the Quilava. “He told us he was a Lugia.”

“That was just one of his delusions!” Sora pleaded, struggling mightily to get past Sabre’s arm. “I think he’s better now!”

There was nothing for Lugia to say that would help the current situation, so he waited for Eutak to speak.

“You _are_ from the Guild for the Young and Challenged,” the Xatu remarked with a cocked head. “You sure he’s not hallucinating or something?”

“Please, just check him, all right?” Sabre said, sighing.

Eutak shrugged and knelt in front of Lugia, who caught one last glimpse of Sora’s teary eyes before Eutak obstructed his view with his wings. “All right, let’s see what we have here,” the Xatu said, peering into his soul with silver irises.

Or at least, he tried to. Lugia watched with some amusement as the bird wrinkled his forehead, then surrounded himself in a purple glow. Nothing happened, and after half a minute of trying, Eutak sent forth an enormous blast of mental force, but it failed and the feedback made him squawk and stagger backwards.

Sabre helped the Xatu regain his footing. “What happened?”

Panting, Eutak rubbed his eyes and pointed with a shaky wing at Lugia, who had barely felt anything more than a slight pressure in his head. “I… I couldn’t even get close! I could feel Ren’s spirit, and the presence of another… but it was too powerful for me to even approach!”

“So there… there really is a Lugia inside Ren?” Sora breathed, no longer struggling and instead rooted to the spot.

Eutak nodded almost imperceptibly, gawking at the reincarnated Legendary.

“But is Ren okay?”

All eyes turned to Lugia, and then to the Xatu. “I’ve never seen a possession of this scale, but… I did sense Ren’s spirit, and it was whole. Still, I have to ask”–Eutak turned to Lugia with what seemed like a slight, reverential bow–“Lugia, if I may call you so, why have you inhabited the body of a child?”

With that question, Lugia had everyone’s attention, and he decided it was finally time to speak. Straightening his legs and raising his head, he cleared his throat. Hopefully this was a better audience than Harlow had been. “Firstly, I apologize for any distress I may have caused you,” he began, turning momentarily to Sora, who was staring at him speechlessly. “I am indeed Lugia, and I Transmigrated into Ren because I was attacked and had no other chance of escape.”

“What exactly is Transmigration?” Sabre demanded, crossing his arms. He seemed to be rather indifferent to Lugia’s presence, which Lugia was grateful for.

However, the moment the Sandslash allowed it, Sora inched closer to him, her body low as though she was afraid to approach him.

This was a tamer reaction than Lugia had expected, so he turned to Sabre to answer the question. It was true that he wasn’t completely informed, but he could say enough to sound like he was. “Transmigration is the term for transferring one’s entire consciousness into another Pokémon. This differs from standard possession, in which part of the perpetrator’s spirit remains in the original body and eventually draws back the rest of itself, making possession unsustainable.”

He then addressed Sora, who backed away a bit. “And I should note that I did not willingly choose Ren; I had no time for preparation so I Transmigrated at random. I suspect proximity and Ren’s mental state are what determined the outcome.”

“But who on earth would attack _you_?” Eutak interjected, still staring at him with what now looked like awe. “I mean, you’re a _Lugia_ , a match for any Legendary, if legends are to be believed.”

On another day, the Xatu’s words might have been flattering, but currently they made him feel weak. In the end, he hadn’t even put up a fight against his assailant. What use was his power then?

“It was Darkrai,” he said through clenched teeth, his paws gripping the grass tightly. “And unfortunately, I was… caught off guard.”

“Darkrai?” Sabre repeated, stepping forward. “Darkrai attacked you?”

There was an implicit request for an explanation in the question, but Lugia had none, and he averted his eyes to the ground. “Yes,” he answered quietly. “I do not know why.”

“Perhaps he’s the one behind the disappearances!” Eutak exclaimed, ruffling his wing feathers.

It was temping to respond affirmatively, but Lugia stopped himself from leaping to conclusions. He’d already implied it to Harlow, but that was mostly just a way to phrase his words that he thought would sound believable. In reality, Darkrai’s murder attempt didn’t implicate him in the other disappearances. However, the lack of motive was disturbing – if Darkrai could kill without motive, would he kill again?

“It’s… a possibility,” he said reluctantly, curling his lip. That was about where his defense of the dark type would end. Even if Darkrai wasn’t responsible for the disappearances, after ensuring Articuno’s safety, Lugia would make sure he answered for his actions.

“Let’s not get into this right now,” Sabre said, turning away from the tree and making to leave. “We have to speak with Harlow about this.”

“Wait!” Sora cried out, rushing to Eutak and clinging to his side as though expecting Sabre to drag her away. “What about Ren? Do we just leave him like this?”

Lugia said nothing, though his hope that Sora would take the situation well and remain cooperative took a bit of a blow.

“Ah, I’m afraid we don’t have any choice in the matter, as it’s far beyond my abilities to expel a Legendary’s soul,” Eutak said, leaning over to brush the Monferno’s head with his wing. “But as long as you keep an eye on him, your brother should be completely safe.”

“But, how do we get Ren back?” Sora insisted, giving Lugia a wary look from the corner of her eye.

Pretending not to notice, Lugia wondered whether even before the possession, Ren got these kinds of looks often. 

“It’s really all up to Lugia,” Eutak replied with a smile. “I imagine he will leave once he reaches his body. In the meantime, you get to hang out with a Legendary! How many Pokémon get to do that?”

Sora’s gaze softened, and the Xatu straightened himself and met eyes with Lugia, who nodded his head gratefully. Perhaps Eutak was more perceptive and reasonable than he’d given him credit for.

“Your brother will be fine,” the bird repeated, proceeding to flutter back to the branch he’d occupied before their arrival. “Now, I sense old Sabre getting impatient. Better be off!”

The Sandslash gave him a glare. “Not a–”

“–word of this to anyone, I know,” Eutak chirped, settling himself on his perch. “See you around, mons.”

Sabre’s claws twitched, and he turned around with a huff. “Let’s go, lads,” he said, walking towards them and gesturing for them to move. Lugia did so, but it was a few moments before Sora reluctantly left the spot where Eutak had stood and rejoined them.

Without so much as a word of goodbye to the Xatu, the three Pokémon began their descent. The atmosphere was quite different this time around – Sabre was right beside them, but even through his dark gaze, Lugia could tell he was lost in thought.

Sora was silent, too. She maintained a gap between them, but every so often she would glance at him, as if to check that he was still there.

Well, Lugia thought to himself as he faced the grass below him, this was still a fairly good outcome to the situation. From what he could tell, Sabre seemed to trust Eutak, which meant that Harlow would no longer question his identity and hopefully be able to help him find a way to reach the bottom of the Surrounded Sea.

What wasn’t clear, though, was how Sora would fit into this. While she seemed to accept the premise of Ren’s possession, she also seemed to be quite upset about it. But surely she’d help him, if only to get her brother back? Not that her assistance was necessary, but… he would prefer not to cause any undue anguish.

The two fire types’ eyes met, and Sora shuddered. She lowered her head and wrapped her arms around herself as though she were cold.

“Is… Is Ren there?” she said suddenly, her voice soft. Lugia’s ears perked up, and Sabre turned subtly to observe their conversation. “I mean… can he hear me? Can he talk?”

“He cannot,” Lugia replied, keeping his focus on the path ahead. “Think of him as asleep.”

“They say Pokémon can sometimes be aware of what’s around them while sleeping,” she said without pause, the fire on her tail brighter now.

Lugia eyed her with a raised brow. “I suppose Ren might have some vague perception of what is happening, yes. But in all likelihood he is incapable of responding to it or retaining any memory of it.”

His answer brought a smile to her face that Lugia didn’t understand. She turned to him and looked straight into his eyes. “Don’t worry, Ren,” she whispered, as if not to wake him, “you’re going to be okay.”

Uncertain of how to respond, the Quilava returned his gaze to the grass. There was practically no chance Ren could hear her, and there was no difference if he could, but there was no reason to deny her the reassurance of comforting her brother.

“So, where is your body… Lugia?” she asked, fumbling slightly with the name, as if it were completely foreign to her. It was then that he realized she was most likely too young to fully comprehend who he was. To her, it probably didn’t matter who he was – a Legendary or some random Ghastly.

Whether this was for the better or the worse, he didn’t know. “At the bottom of the Surrounded Sea,” he answered simply.

“What!” she exclaimed, having to stop for a moment. Even Sabre flinched. “How are we supposed to get there?”

“I... do not know,” Lugia answered reluctantly, frowning. “I am aware of dungeon creation methods, but I am clueless as to how to access them. I was rather hoping that Harlow or somebody from Modrall Guild knows.”

“I’ve heard of something like that,” Sabre interjected, scratching his chin. “Some special cards, I think they were. But boy, those are going to be tough to get your paws on!”

The smile on Sora’s face receded, and Lugia rolled his eyes at Sabre’s unhelpfulness. “Your brother will be all right,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound intoned.

“He’d better be,” she muttered, her fists clenched.

Hearing such an implied threat from one so young made him chuckle. “You are not the first to threaten me today,” he said, smiling. “Do not worry yourself, Sora. For the good of us both, I shall keep Ren safe.”

Her determined expression didn’t change, but her arms relaxed. First Harlow, now Sora… clearly, there was no shortage of Pokémon who were willing to involve themselves in matters they knew nothing of, if it meant protecting those they cared about. It was honestly rather surprising; he’d expected more Pokémon to be intimidated by his name. Perhaps they weren’t familiar with his species, but either way, he’d seen a good amount of bravery today.

Sighing, Lugia looked to the azure sky. He had someone to protect, too.

Perhaps because of Sabre’s presence, no Pokémon attacked them, and the remainder of the journey was uneventful. Sora was too uncomfortable to have a prolonged conversation with him, so to pass the time, Sabre went on about a variety of trivial topics – the weather, food, dungeons. Lugia wasn’t certain whether even Sora was listening.

By the time they got back to the guild, Lugia’s feet were sore. He’d been hungry, too, but fortunately Sabre had treated them to some rare berries from Kecleon Market. However, they didn’t get time to rest; the moment they stepped into the guild’s homely atrium, the Sandslash directed them into Harlow’s office.

Ah yes, now it was her turn – second turn, at that – to react to events.

The two fire types seated themselves on two stools that were conveniently placed in front of the Nidoqueen’s desk, while Sabre stood beside Harlow, who glanced between the two of them. Her face fell when she saw Sora’s uneasy expression, and she turned to Sabre expectantly.

“It’s true,” the Sandslash said, shrugging. “Eutak couldn’t even get into his mind.”

Harlow slammed her arms into the table with alarming ferocity, making everyone jump up slightly. “But we don’t even know for certain that it’s Lugia,” she remarked, somewhat roughly. “It could be a different Legendary, whose mind Eutak would be equally incapable of reading.”

His tired feet, which had previously been dangling lazily from the chair, now gripped its edge. Lugia understood that her intentions were good, but was she really going to be this obstinate? After their mission, he really wasn’t in the mood for more pointless opposition. “What do I have to gain from impersonating Lugia?” he said, attempting to keep the frustration from his voice. “I only wish to return to my body, but I cannot do it alone.”

“Where is your body?”

“The floor of the Surrounded Sea rift,” he answered instantly. He really hoped he wasn’t going to have to repeat the conversation he’d had atop the Hill of Beginnings. “The only way to get there would be through dungeon creation, but it is largely unknown to me – I was hoping you would have some relevant information.”

The Nidoqueen sighed and turned once again to the wall of drawings on her right. Lugia tried his best to follow her line of sight, because something was clearly troubling her. “I just… You are too young for such an undertaking,” she said, her eyes glossed over. “How could I guarantee your safety? Dungeon creation is a dangerous affair.”

“We do not have to be alone,” Lugia retorted, sitting up now. “And I have already given you my word that I would not let Ren come to harm.”

Harlow lowered her head and said nothing, and Lugia ground his teeth at her stubbornness.

“Please, Ms. Harlow,” came Sora’s voice, so quiet that everyone in the room stilled to hear it. She was sitting cross-legged on the chair, her gaze downcast. “I want to help him.”

Lugia couldn’t help but stare at her in surprise.

“Sora, you do understand that this is not your brother speaking, don’t you?” the Nidoqueen asked gently.

“I do,” the Monferno answered, raising her head to reveal an unexpectedly calm expression, “but helping Lugia is helping Ren, so I’ll do it.”

Biting her lip, Harlow wrung her wrists. Sabre was still standing there silently, unmoving.

“All right, I’ll help you,” she said at last, after taking a deep breath. Her face was wan with resignation. “However, I’m afraid I can’t do much for you. I know that the most practical means of dungeon creation are the Entercards, but such advanced exploration tools are out of the scope of this guild. I believe Modrall Guild has some kind of access to them, but even if they do, I doubt you would be allowed to use them.”

“Allowed to use them?” Lugia repeated, tilting his head. “Surely an exception could be made, given the circumstances?”

“Given how dangerous and regulated dungeon creation is, I wouldn’t count on it,” the Nidoqueen answered. “Plus, the fewer Pokémon who know who you truly are, the better.”

“Wait, are you saying we should go to the Big Guild?” Sora said, suddenly aglow. “To… to become members?”

Harlow nodded. “That is as far as I can direct you. From there, it will be up to you to find a way to obtain some Entercards.”

“Wow, Ren, we actually get to”–the Monferno stopped herself, no doubt remembering who she was really talking to.

Lugia shrugged it off, though he certainly didn’t share her enthusiasm – this was a much more roundabout approach than he had hoped for. “Is it really that crucial that my identity remain secret?”

“It is, trust me,” the Nidoqueen replied, turning once again to the wall of drawings, whose significance Lugia still couldn’t decipher. “Certain Pokémon would not want to help you if they knew who you were.”

“I don’t understand,” Lugia said sincerely, frowning. Were Pokémon really so black-hearted towards Legendaries? He’d heard stories, but this seemed excessive.

Harlow smiled sardonically, seeming to know something that Lugia didn’t. That irritated him, but she only said, “I am sure that you will, if you do not already.”

This answer didn’t satisfy Lugia at all, but he didn’t get to speak.

“So when do we go?” Sora asked, perched on the edge of her seat as though she were ready to race off at any second.

Leaning back in her chair, the Nidoqueen leafed through some papers on her desk. “Next morning,” she answered, finding a blank one and grabbing a quill. “As I’m sure you know, Sora, Modrall Guild is quite highly selective, and for them to consider accepting members from here, I shall need to write a letter of recommendation. Even then, they might still test you in some manner.”

The Monferno turned briefly to Lugia and clenched her firsts in determination. “I know we can do it!”

Lugia raised a brow at her enthusiasm. Her confidence would have been reassuring if he didn’t know how unspectacular Ren’s physical condition was. If Modrall Guild was truly competitive, he wasn’t sure how much of a chance even Sora had – but then, there was no reason for him to voice such concerns, so he kept them to himself.

“You are free until tomorrow morning, then,” Harlow said, looking up from the letter that she had started writing. “Remember, from now on, you will have to pretend that Lugia is Ren.”

“Sure,” Sora agreed. 

Half-heartedly, Lugia nodded.

“You are dismissed,” the Nidoqueen said, this time keeping her eyes on the letter. The grip on her quill seemed tense, but she did not speak further.

“Let’s go!” the Monferno chirped, hopping off her chair and pulling the other fire type by the arm. Scrambling to land on his feet, Lugia gave Harlow and Sabre one final look before he was dragged off into the atrium.

The door closed behind them, and they found themselves in the midst of a crowded hall. Many Pokémon had undoubtedly just returned from their missions, as short and simple as they were. However, Lugia could not appreciate this because he was already somewhat drowsy, and the echoing noise quickly irritated him.

“Hey, we should practice our abilities, in case they do test us,” the Monferno suggested, rubbing her palms together.

“Perhaps later,” he said, extending his forelimbs in a stretch and yawning. The brief muffling of sound was pleasant. “I am rather tired.”

She seemed to want to argue, but Lugia didn’t give her the opportunity. With a nod in goodbye, he shuffled away. Without needing to turn around, he knew the Monferno was watching him, probably disappointed. But he really did feel worn out, for whatever reason. Maybe Ren wasn’t used to doing much walking, or perhaps he still hadn’t fully adapted to Ren’s body.

Whatever the case, it was with a sigh of relief that he let himself flop onto his straw bed. The relative stillness and coolness of the room soothed him, and he bunched some straw together to rest his head on it.

Truthfully, while he was indeed tired, it wasn’t his intention to sleep. He’d left mostly because he still didn’t feel comfortable being around so many Pokémon, even if there was no possibility of harming them. It felt odd somehow – after all, he was old enough to be their grandfather. Some of their antics deterred him, and they were probably better off not knowing him anyway.

Still, as inexplicably enthusiastic as she had gotten, Sora had impressed him with how well she seemed to be taking his identity. Rolling onto his back and giving his belly a few scratches, Lugia wondered whether there was any possibility that she was still projecting her brother onto him. From her point of view, what was it like to see someone who had been mentally ill suddenly act so lucid? Or just see someone and know they weren’t who they appeared to be?

He closed his eyes. It was probably better that he think about tomorrow’s transfer to Modrall Guild, and so he did, although the coziness of his bed often made him doze off, only to snap out of it minutes later and find himself staring at the ceiling.

The reddening shade of light that filtered through the window was the only trace of time passing. Several times, Sora stopped by, and with increasing reluctance asked him if he wanted to practice moves, go out for a walk, play games with her friends – each time he said no, and she left.

By the fourth time or so, he was on the brink of sleep, and only subconsciously noticed her come in. With the slow rise and fall of his chest, she must have thought he was sleeping, because she didn’t say a word.

He let himself sleep, nestling into the straw, with the warmth of another fire Pokémon beside him.


	4. Chapter 4

Lugia awoke to a soft prodding on his side. It was a mere touch at first, barely distinguishable from the bed beneath him, but steadily it intensified into harsh jabs. Lugia swiped his paw at the intruding individual.

“Sorry,” Sora said in a half whisper. “It’s time for breakfast.”

Groggily, Lugia opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light. For a second his breathing quickened in panic at the unfamiliar surroundings, but one look at his yellow, furred paws made him remember. He was a Quilava, and today they were supposed to transfer to Modrall Guild, where they would hopefully be able to find a way to obtain the Entercards necessary for him to regain his body.

Yawning, he stretched his forelimbs, feeling the fire on his back flare up, as if it were only just waking up as well. “Good morning,” he said, turning to the Monferno, who already seemed wide alert. Had she been waiting for him?

“Let’s go,” she said, and after Lugia straightened himself, she led the way out of the room.

The walk helped Lugia regain awareness, though a loud growl from his stomach brought food to the forefront of his attention. It was no surprise; he didn’t recall having dinner. He must have dozed off sooner than he’d anticipated, and Sora must have let him sleep.

Like yesterday, the two of them were the last to arrive to the dining hall. This time, Lugia felt no anxiety as he followed her to what he could now assume were their designated seats.

“Good morning, Ms. Harlow!” Sora chirped.

“Good morning, Ms. Harlow,” Lugia intoned, giving the Nidoqueen a short glance as well as Sabre, who sat beside her.

The two fire types climbed onto their stools, and Lugia found his mouth watering at the scent of all the food.

“Good morning, everyone!” Harlow began, not needing to read from a journal this time. “I’m happy to say that no more disappearances have taken place, and that Modrall Guild thanks you for helping out with their tasks.”

Lugia nodded to himself, relieved that no more disappearances had occurred. It gave him more time to deal with his situation, and it seemed to be a sign that Articuno wasn’t in immediate danger. In fact, perhaps Darkrai had chosen these few targets and that was it, and Articuno wasn’t even aware of any disturbance.

The thought was comforting, but then Lugia realized that Articuno must have somehow been affected by the corrupted dream, too, since it had been a shared dream. The idea made his heart fall – did Articuno think he was dead? Would he already be grieving? 

“I have some good news, though,” Harlow continued, turning in the direction of him and Sora. “Ren and Sora are trying out for Modrall Guild today!”

The room erupted into noise that Lugia had not expected, completely derailing his train of thought. He and the Monferno found themselves the objects of cheering, hollering, and clapping, and he lowered his head slightly. Sora, on the other hand, waved at everyone enthusiastically.

“Now, now; calm down, everyone,” Harlow said, her voice just loud enough to end the commotion. “Let us eat breakfast first and let them prepare. If you like, you can see them off afterwards. Enjoy!”

Chairs scraped as dozens of Pokémon rushed to grab their favorite food, and Lugia was one of them, unable to restrain himself in his hunger. Wolfing down one apple after another, taking breaks only to breathe and swallow the occasional berry, he decided then that he was never skipping dinner again.

Sora seemed to notice and giggled. Stopping mid-bite, he looked down and saw that he’d made quite a mess, crumbs and stains covering the table, and some even his fur. Ears flattening abashedly, he continued eating at a slower pace.

This time, he was among the last to finish eating, but the meal was well worth it. Leaning back and breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and waited for the remaining few Pokémon.

“Ready to go?”

Lugia opened his eyes to find that Sora was the one waiting for him. Nodding, he slid onto the ground and briefly brushed his fur clean.

“Ren, could I speak with you in my office? Alone?” Harlow requested, her voice warm but with grave undertones.

He turned to Sora, who shrugged. “Go ahead, I’ll get all our things,” she said, and bounded off.

The Nidoqueen got up to leave, too, and reluctantly Lugia plodded after her.

Upon entering her office, she closed the door behind him but didn’t move to her desk. Curious, Lugia looked up at her, reminding himself just how small he really was.

Of course, he wouldn’t let that deter him. “Why did you summon me?” he asked, walking past her and stopping by the wall of pictures.

Harlow said nothing for the time being, but she glanced at him and then at the wall, as if to encourage him. 

Obligingly, Lugia examined the drawings, but there didn’t seem to be much of a pattern between them. Some were rough sketches, some were finished, colored pieces. Most of them were signed and seemed to be self-portraits, with Harlow, Sabre, and other adults occasionally present. The date was often there, too, but so far there didn’t seem to be any system of organization.

“Lugia,” she said, jarring him with how deliberately she said his name. “I didn’t want to talk about this, but… before you left, I just had to ask, had to make sure.”

He kept his gaze on the artwork, aware of her watching him. He was on the right side of the wall now, where all the pictures seemed to be older.

“When you said you were a Lugia from the Surrounded Sea, well… I don’t know much of your kind, except for a few stories. Stories of… of storms.” Harlow sucked in a breath, and Lugia held his. “Were you, by any chance, the cause of the Modrall Hurricane three years ago?”

Lugia froze in place, his eyes lingering on the dates. There, on the right side of the wall, they were all older than three years. Was that why she kept glancing at them? Were those drawings of deceased Pokémon, Pokémon who died as a result of his actions? The idea made him feel faint, and slowly he turned to Harlow, but he found himself unable to look at her.

That alone seemed to be an answer for her, and her lips thinned. “Why?” she asked hoarsely.

The question echoed in Lugia’s head accusingly, and he shut his eyes. After the accident had happened and Articuno had checked on the town, Lugia saw telepathically the damage he’d caused. It was horrendous – wind and water toppling entire houses, sweeping entire structures off the ground. The howling of the storm had muffled the screams.

“Lugia,” the Nidoqueen insisted, taking a step towards him.

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am,” he whispered, hanging his head and trying to make himself smaller. He’d thought he’d managed to distance himself enough from the memory, but seeing Harlow and the pictures brought it back. Shivering, he remembered Articuno staying with him and consoling him for hours. Why couldn’t he be here now? Why did Harlow have to keep hammering on the subject, anyway? Couldn’t she see that he felt guilty enough? Or was it a curiosity to her that a Legendary could show vulnerability?

But Harlow stopped and raised her palms. “I don’t want to judge you,” she said. “I just want to understand.”

Finally, he looked back at her, and saw that instead of the bitterness he’d expected, her expression was merely sorrowful. Releasing the shaky breath that he hadn’t been aware of holding, he moved towards her slightly. How pathetic he must have appeared. “At the time, I… I had not appreciated the full extent and precariousness of my power,” he said. “I’d been flying and lost balance, and… that was all it took.” He lowered his head and bit his lip. “I know I cannot atone for what I’ve done, but know that once I return to my body, I will stay hidden in the Surrounded Sea, where I can cause no one any harm.”

The Nidoqueen sighed, her shoulders slumping, and turned to the wall. “Of course, we can’t change the past, and I believe that you had no ill intent. But you have now entered the lives of children, and we must consider the reality of that regardless of your intent. Sora and Ren’s entire lives may be affected by your actions. Please, I ask that you keep that in mind.”

Lugia gazed at the images as well, not immediately knowing what to tell her. Her mild response was rather uplifting, but could he honestly say what she wanted to hear? Sora _chose_ to stay with him, so how could he protect her from everything that came about as a result of his presence?

“I intend to honor the promise I made you,” he said at last, looking into her eyes resolutely. It was the most he could offer.

Harlow smiled, although weakly, as though she understood his thinking. “Thank you, that is all I wanted to hear. Now then… we mustn’t keep Sora waiting.”

Lugia cocked his head, almost finding it hard to believe. Had that really been her sole purpose for summoning him? Not to interrogate him about the storm, but to once again caution for his and Sora’s safety? Or was this part of the reason why he wasn’t supposed to tell others of his identity?

“Zahir the Scizor, Modrall Guild’s guildmaster, has responded to my letter,” the Nidoqueen said, walking to her desk with a steadiness that made it clear the conversation had moved on. “It seems that you will be considered for acceptance, but you will be tested for your battling skills first.”

“Battling skills?” Lugia repeated, frowning and looking at his paws. Battling with this body? If the only offensive move he knew was Ember and a half-day trip to the Hill of Beginnings significantly tired him out, how impressive could his fighting be?

Harlow nodded sympathetically. “I should warn you now, Modrall Guild’s program is quite rigorous. Even for you, it will not be easy. Good luck out there.”

The finality was evident in her voice, and Lugia bowed. “Thank you,” he said, turning around to leave. But before he stepped out the door, he stopped – it felt wrong to just leave like that, with how supportive she’d been. “Thank you for understanding. I will keep Sora and Ren safe, I promise you.”

Surprisingly, she got up to see him out. “I trust you, Lugia. And if I get any word of Articuno, I’ll let you know. Be well…”

Lugia nodded gratefully, and together they walked out of the office. Upon entering the atrium, they immediately ran into Sora, who had been waiting with her face practically against the wood.

“Oh, Ms. Harlow!” she exclaimed, backing away sheepishly. “I, heh, I was just waiting!”

“Well, good, I wanted to wish you good luck,” the Nidoqueen responded, leaning down to pat her. “If all goes well, you’ll have a new place to sleep tonight. I just hope you’ll visit sometime; I’ll miss you.”

Lugia stood there silently. I’ll miss you? That seemed oddly personal, coming from a guildmaster.

“We will,” Sora said, and hugged the ground type, who smiled and ruffled the fur on her head. “Thanks for everything.”

After a moment, the Nidoqueen stepped back. Lugia could have sworn her eyes were watery. “All right, off you go. Make the guild proud!”

Sora grinned, and before Lugia could question the conversation he’d just heard, she wrapped an arm around him and zoomed off, taking him with her. 

“Calm down, Sora,” Lugia grunted, once again having to duck out from her hold so that he could walk autonomously.

“Calm down?” she exclaimed, her tail flame flaring. “We’re about to try out to be members of Modrall Guild! You’ve heard of it, haven’t you? Some of the greatest explorers went there! Like Team Ailon, the first team to clear the Zero Isles!”

“The Zero Isles?” Lugia echoed, shrugging. “There is scarcely anything of interest in them; certainly not anything worth the–”

The Monferno gasped, her jaw agape. “Wait, you’ve been to the Zero Isles?”

Lugia’s eyes widened, and he quickly glanced around to see if anybody was listening. “Shh, keep your voice down,” he hissed. It was a stretch, but a young Quilava claiming to have intimate knowledge of the Zero Isles might raise suspicions. “This is irrelevant, anyway,” he went on casually. “What we should be concerned with is that apparently, we will have to undergo some sort of battle testing to be accepted into Modrall Guild.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” she said, waving a hand before bounding ahead again. “Come on, let’s go!”

Scowling inwardly, Lugia followed. Why was she so energetic all of a sudden, to the point of ignoring important matters? Sure, Modrall Guild had a good reputation, but was that really all it took to turn the thoughtful, relatively sensible Monferno he’d seen yesterday in the dining hall into this?

“Perhaps you’re confident in your own abilities,” he said as he caught up, “but how do you expect me to be able to win in a measure of strength? Ren is not exactly in good physical condition.”

“Hey, don’t say that! Strength isn’t everything, you know,” she chided, and he rolled his eyes. Was she really trying to lecture him? “You seem pretty smart, so I think you can find a way to win, whatever it is.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he responded flatly. “However, don’t be naïve – in the heat of battle, intelligence and strategy can only compensate so much for the lack of physical prowess.”

But Sora didn’t look like she was listening, so he gave up on the topic and remained silent as they headed in a straight line towards the gate. On the way, various Pokémon stopped them to wish them good luck – most of them were Sora’s friends, so Lugia was able to stand back, but occasionally a Pokémon would meekly approach him, and he would provide ambiguous phrases and force a smile. Fortunately, Sora would always speak on his behalf.

Once they reached the entrance, Sora turned around. “See you later, guys!” she hollered, jumping up and flailing her arms in a wave. Lugia merely raised a paw.

To resounding goodbyes, the two of them left the guild and took to the streets. Keeping up with Sora’s brisk pace was quite the workout, though, which only decreased his confidence. Still, in a way, she was right; there was no use being pessimistic. This was most likely the quickest route to the Entercards, so he had to find a way to pass whatever test he was given.

After having walked to the town square, they took a right, and Lugia found that he no longer recognized his surroundings. The road was a prominent one, lined with little rows of flowers. At first he paid them no attention, but at a crossroads ahead of them was a circle of roses, in the center of which stood a stone tablet. Sora did not stop and neither did he, but he was able to read the titular engraving: “In Memory of Lives Lost.”

Swallowing, he quickened his pace.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on the memorial, because once they passed it, ahead of them loomed an enormous complex of enormous brick buildings identified by a sign on the road as Modrall Guild. Having seen the Guild for the Young and Challenged, the sight before him was rather unexpected, and he stopped to stare for a moment. The street branched off into sand-colored buildings, each with a façade of columns and a name carved as a relief into the lintel. The complex could have passed as some sort of temple with how anomalous it was to the rest of the town. The Pokémon milling about were completely different from those of the previous guild, too – most of them were at least once evolved, and they gave off an atmosphere of professionality.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” Sora remarked, watching him excitedly. “Let’s go, guildmaster Zahir’s chamber is this way!”

Lugia followed her skeptically. How did she know where to go?

They continued in a straight path towards the largest of the buildings, past a statue of a Nidoking holding a lantern to the sky. Lugia could only assume this was the main building as it had no engraving, but it became clear when they entered.

He’d thought the atrium of the Guild for the Young and Challenged was spacious, but this was something else. Almost slipping on the polished floor, he observed with wonder the massive walls, wallpapered with mission requests and illuminated under the pure light of a chandelier of repurposed Luminous Orbs. Below the chandelier was a hexagonal formation of tables and chairs, most of which were occupied by Pokémon, through which they presently weaved as they progressed to the other side of the hall. As they passed, Lugia caught snippets of conversations about dungeons, and noticed several Pokémon eyeing them curiously.

Choosing to ignore them, he glanced at Sora, who was still walking with her head held high, and couldn’t help but respect her unfaltering determination. He imagined most other children would be intimidated or awed by such a place. She didn’t seem fazed by anything.

Continuing through the hallway that they had entered, they eventually reached its end – a tall, mahogany door.

Sora raised a fist to knock. “Ready?” she whispered, turning to him.

He nodded. The slight tremble of her hand didn’t escape his attention.

She pounded the door several times.

“Come in,” came a voice from the other side, gruff and resonant.

The Monferno pushed the door open, and the two stepped inside. It was a surprisingly small room, so they immediately found themselves facing a seated Scizor, who looked up sharply from a document he’d been reading.

“Ren and Sora, correct?” he demanded, resting his pincers on his table.

They nodded, and Lugia couldn’t help but keep his eyes on him. Unlike Sabre, this Pokémon was hard to get a read on – his pristine exoskeleton didn’t suggest a fighter, and yet there was something very military about his very deliberate movements and calculating gaze.

“Tell me, given the dozens of monthly applicants, why would I be interested in accepting two children from a guild specializing in the physically and mentally challenged?” Zahir asked, casually as though unaware of the aggression in his words.

Well then, Lugia thought to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly. That was one way to start a conversation.

“Because we want to help in any way we can!” Sora answered, beaming. Was she not noticing the guildmaster’s hostility? “And we think we’re good enough!”

The Scizor chuckled amusedly, but it didn’t serve to make him seem more approachable at all. “Is that so? Harlow’s recommendation was certainly very flattering. But this isn’t a game. We don’t concern ourselves with petty matters like lost items on a beach. The majority of missions here will put either your life or someone else’s life at risk. Are you ready for such a responsibility?”

“Of course!” Sora replied instantly.

Zahir turned to Lugia, who only nodded, still rather thrown off by the Scizor’s unnecessarily hostile demeanor.

“Are you mute?” the Scizor asked with a scowl.

Lugia glanced at Sora, who seemed to be worried now that Zahir was talking to him. Given her general concern for Ren, this was understandable. “I am ready for the responsibility,” he answered simply, keeping his voice even.

“Of course, whether you think you are ready is one thing,” the steel type said with a minute wing flutter, scarcely letting Lugia finish speaking. “Whether you are actually up to the task is another. As such, as I’m sure Harlow told you, I will first have you tested for your battle prowess. All the recommendations in the world mean nothing if you can’t hold your own in a dungeon.”

Her tail flame blazing, Sora clenched her hands into fists. “What do we have to do?”

The Scizor looked briefly at something on the table – from his low vantage point, Lugia couldn’t see it. “Go to the training grounds, rooms three and four. You will receive further instruction there. Good luck.”

The absence of expression made him sound snide rather than encouraging, but Sora thanked him nonetheless, and with that, the two of them left the room and walked back into the hallway.

It was a while before Lugia felt the desire to speak. “Not the most pleasant personality, is he?” he remarked quietly once they were a fair distance from the door.

“I think he’s just acting tough,” Sora said, patting him once on the head, as if to comfort him.

Tough didn’t seem like the word for it. Rude seemed more apt of a description. More importantly, something told him that a character like Zahir would be unlikely to make any sort of test easy for them.

Once again, Sora seemed to know where she was going, as it wasn’t long before they arrived at the training grounds, which turned out to be one of the buildings. The inside was much less elegant than the main hall, and it smelled of sweat, but then, that was to be expected.

Instead of a spacious foyer, the entrance of the training grounds was a long horizontal corridor, in the center of which was stationed a Sawk receptionist, who greeted them and told them their assigned room numbers – Sora in three, Lugia in four. But Lugia barely paid him any attention because he couldn’t help but feel his stomach tighten with anxiety.

As they arrived at the neighboring doors to rooms three and four, Sora turned to him. “Well, _Ren_ , this is it!” she said, grinning and reaching to tousle the fur on his head. He ducked out of it, and she stopped with a concerned expression. “Wait, you’re actually nervous? Look, you’re overthinking it – just do your best, and if we don’t get accepted, we’ll find another way.”

“Yes, yes,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He already knew all that, but it would be a shame if he let this opportunity go to waste. His success here was dependent very much on the task he was given, and he hated not having a good grasp on the situation.

“Let’s do it, then!” she said determinedly, giving him a final pat before moving in front of the door marked three and knocking on it. It opened to reveal a Poliwrath, who motioned for her to enter. She glanced at Lugia with a smile, and then she was gone.

Lugia watched the door close behind her. He might have been a Legendary stuck in a Quilava’s body, but she truly was just a young Monferno. Would she be able to accomplish the test this supposedly selective guild would give her? She would have to if she wanted to stay with him; he couldn’t help her now. Currently, he had his own test to worry about. Steeling himself, he knocked on the door in front of him. After a few seconds, he was greeted by the sight of a Pangoro, who looked him over.

“You’re Ren, right?” he said, his voice not seeming to match his body size.

Lugia nodded, and walked into the room at the fighting type’s signal. The room was spacious and empty, with just a few benches on the sides and an arena demarcated by paint on the floor, so his eyes were immediately drawn to the Croconaw standing in the center.

“Finally you’re here, geez,” the Croconaw said, glaring at him with crossed arms.

Lugia grimaced inwardly. Naturally Zahir had him fight a water type.

“Now, now, Kyriak, be nice,” the Pangoro chided, guiding Lugia to the side of the room. The Croconaw huffed and followed. Once the two were nearby, the fighting type gestured to both of them with his palms. “Ren, this is Kyriak; Kyriak, this is Ren. I am Pancratius – call me Pan if you want – and I will be supervising and judging your sparring session today.”

That had been pretty obvious already, but nonetheless Lugia focused his eyes on his opponent with renewed attention. Kyriak appeared to be a few years older than Sora, and was probably picked for this test for being closest to Ren’s age. Him being a water type was also a coincidence Zahir was surely not unhappy about.

“Listen up,” Pancratius said, directing them to one of the benches, which Lugia now saw had several items laid out on it. “As this is an admittance test for you, Ren, you will be fighting to show your abilities and experience. As such, defeating Kyriak is not a requirement. The fight will end when either of you yield or are incapacitated. For you, Kyriak, this is a chance to increase your rank.”

The Croconaw nodded and cracked his knuckles.

Pancratius frowned at that. “I am trusting you both to use your best judgment,” he said, his tone sharper now. “If the fight gets out of hand, I will intervene, and if either of you seriously injure the other, you will be out of this guild before you can even try to argue.”

That all sounded very sensible to Lugia, but somehow he couldn’t help but question whether Kyriak would hold back at all. Immediately once this thought crossed his mind, he mentally berated himself for being unreasonable. These were established guild members, not ferals. Sora was right after all; he was nervous. The only serious fight he’d ever been in was his brief encounter with Darkrai, which he’d lost. Other than that, all the experience he had was a few tussles with his parents when he was a child, and the memories and knowledge he gleaned telepathically from other Pokémon. As if that didn’t put him at a disadvantage enough, he also had an entirely different body to work with.

The Pangoro surveyed them for a moment before turning to the bench and drawing their attention to it. “Finally, both of you will be able to select two items to use at your discretion.”

Intrigued, Lugia eyed the items. The selection consisted of a Petrify Orb, a Trapper Orb, a Heal Seed, a Quick Seed, a Warp Seed, and an Observer Orb. Quite a strange combination, but it filled Lugia with confidence. This was exactly the scenario he needed – being able to win with means other than strength.

“Kyriak, you pick first.”

Lugia’s hopes deflated a little bit at that, and he watched as the Croconaw obligingly examined the items before grabbing the Petrify Orb and the Observer Orb.

“Now you, Ren.”

Shuffling up to the bench, Lugia lowered his head in thought. Kyriak certainly took the obvious choice; facing an opponent who could instantly immobilize him on two separate occasions would be challenging. Hopefully, Kyriak wasn’t aware that there were ways of breaking free from petrification without being hit or using a Heal Seed.

However, it was likely that the only possible way for Lugia to impress Pancratius was to win, and none of the remaining items were particularly offensive. The beginnings of a strategy began to form in his head, though, and resolutely he grabbed the Warp Seed and the Trapper Orb.

When he faced Kyriak again, the Croconaw was eyeing him perplexedly, no doubt questioning his item choices.

Pancratius merely sat down on one of the benches. “All right, take your places.”

With some difficulty, Lugia stood on his hind legs and wobbled towards the center of the arena. Holding two items was certainly more difficult for quadrupeds, but he would have to make do. Surreptitiously he clawed the Trapper Orb in several key places while Kyriak, whom he now faced, held an orb in each hand and looked down at him keenly.

Good, Lugia thought, the more the Croconaw underestimated him, the better. Of course, he’d have to make sure not to make the same mistake. Bending his knees slightly, he tightened his grip on the Warp Seed.

“Ready?” said Pan, leaning back. “Start!”

Instantly, Kyriak raised his arm to smash one of the orbs. Anticipating this, Lugia blew a plume of smoke around himself and threw the Warp Seed into his mouth, biting his tongue lightly.

Lugia could no longer see the water type, but he heard the shattering of glass, and his entire body seized up. Petrification. But he wouldn’t wait for Kyriak to attack him; he could break free himself.

He swallowed the seed and suddenly found himself on the other side of the room, a short distance behind Kyriak, who presently shot a stream of water towards the smoky cloud where Lugia had been.

The Croconaw wouldn’t be fooled for long, so with the already tense muscles of his jaw, he could muster enough movement to bite down harder on his tongue. The sharp pain was enough to break the petrification spell and make him whimper.

Kyriak heard and wheeled around, but Lugia was already sprinting towards him. The fire type leapt at him in a tackle, colliding with his right shoulder and sending him off balance. In the process, Lugia smashed the Trapper Orb against the floor, and grabbed the remaining Observer Orb.

Growling, Kyriak flailed his arm, shaking off Lugia and hitting him against the ground, the orb in his paws. The impact hurt, but he’d gotten what he wanted. Scrambling to his feet, Lugia flung the orb downward, only to be hit with a surge of water that knocked him over and sent him skidding back a bit. 

For a moment Lugia was dazed and couldn’t move or feel anything, but sensation returned to him in the form of cold. Shivering, he opened his eyes to see Kyriak standing there, his glare accompanied by a wince of pain.

Lugia moved his gaze downwards and saw the purple tile of spikes the Croconaw was standing on. Encouraged, Lugia brought himself to all fours despite the weight of his soaked fur and the sluggishness of his muscles. 

It had worked; Kyriak had stepped onto the poison trap set by the Trapper Orb and was now petrified. Hopefully, Lugia glanced at Pancratius, but the fighting type was merely scratching his chin. 

This wasn’t good, Lugia thought as he took a step towards Kyriak. The poison would eventually be sickening enough to break Kyriak from the petrification, and once that happened, Lugia’s chances of winning the fight were next to zero. And he wasn’t strong enough to incapacitate Kyriak in one hit, either. Lugia had been hoping that since winning wasn’t a requirement, Pancratius would end the fight right there, or that Kyriak would concede. Neither of those seemed to be happening, but what more could he do to advance the battle in his favor?

Glancing at the Pangoro one more time, Lugia stopped in front of his opponent and opened his maw, letting fire gather in his throat. He knew his Ember wasn’t very powerful at all, and it hurt his throat and stomach just to maintain this position, but maybe, just maybe it would be intimidating enough…

Kyriak’s eyes widened in the face of the heat.

“That’s enough,” Pancratius shouted.

Lugia immediately relaxed his throat, sucking in a deep breath in relief, but he inhaled a bit too much smoke and started coughing. When he looked up again, Pancratius was standing beside Kyriak and slapping him on the back, freeing him from petrification.

The Croconaw staggered forwards, then righted himself and glared at Lugia with flared nostrils. “Hey, is that legal, taking my item?” he demanded, turning to Pancratius. “And how come he didn’t get petrified?”

“There are a number of techniques to escape petrification,” the fighting type answered. He brushed the turquoise orb he’d been holding, and with a flash, the trap, the water, and all other remnants of the battle disappeared. “And as for using the opponent’s item, it doesn’t happen often, but there are no rules against it.”

Kyriak huffed and crossed his arms. Lugia merely stood there, curious but terribly drowsy – he knew it was because his fur was still wet, but the flames on his head and back had been doused, and felt too difficult to reignite.

“You should go get rid of that poison,” Pancratius remarked, glancing between the two of them. “I suggest that you go to the infirmary, too, Ren.”

His shoulders slumping, Kyriak asked, “What about the results?”

“Your rank is unchanged,” Pancratius said, and gestured towards the door. “For next time, I suggest you learn, in more depth, about common orbs and the conditions they may inflict. Now go.”

Lugia watched as the Croconaw gave him one last sideways glare and left. He shivered but said nothing; no doubt he was staying behind to hear his side of the results.

“Now, Ren,” Pancratius said, turning towards him with a smile. As good of a sign that was, Lugia couldn’t help but hold his breath. “I must say, your tactical fighting is very good for your age, as is your ability to assess your opponent. You seemed to have a cool head, too - you were able to predict Kyriak’s movements, and you altered the Trapper Orb so that it spawned a poison trap. That’s no basic trick.”

Before Lugia could feel relief, the fighting type’s smile vanished, and his tone became more severe. “That being said, your victory owes much to your luck that Kyriak didn’t know how to recover from petrification like you did. Otherwise, from what I saw of your Ember and considering your condition now, your powers and stamina would have failed you.”

Lugia lowered his head. It was true.

“Lighten up, kid!” Pancratius said with a gruff chuckle. Lugia looked up to see him smiling again. “All those things, you will have to work on, but still, as far as the test was concerned, you’ve surpassed expectation. I’m giving you rank B-, which is honestly a bit high, so don’t make me regret it.”

For a moment Lugia’s shivering stopped as he processed the news. “Th-thank you,” he said, surprised to find his teeth chattering. It aggravated his sore tongue, but right then, it didn’t matter. He’d done it. He let himself relax.

Pancratius nodded encouragingly. “Now, you’re free to go. Again, I recommend the infirmary, and after that, you should wait in the main lobby for Guildmaster Zahir’s decision.”

Lugia bowed his head and shuffled out the door. He was still cold and tired, but he could weather it out. In the meantime, he glanced around the hall. There was no sign of Sora. It was true that his battle had ended rather quickly; Sora must have still been fighting.

As the adrenaline from the test faded away, Lugia sat down on the floor, which seemed oddly comfortable to him. His body wasn’t used to fighting, which was probably why all the little aches and strains now made themselves known, but going to the infirmary was too much of a hassle. His thoughts turned fleetingly to the Entercards and where they might be, and without him realizing it, his eyelids drooped shut. 

“Ren!” a voice yelled, and Lugia jumped up to see Sora shaking him awake. The abrupt movement made him dizzy, and the difficulty he had in speaking or focusing on her made him realize that he still wasn’t rested enough. In fact, he only felt worse.

“They made you fight a water type, too?” the Monferno asked, holding him in front of her so that she could get a better look at him. “And you got soaked and you didn’t even dry yourself? C’mere, fur-face!”

Lugia didn’t have the energy to resist, so he just grumbled as Sora moved next to him. She engulfed her hand in fire and rubbed his back vigorously. It shook him like a doll, but before he could think to protest, he felt the heat thaw his muscles and invigorate him.

The result was surprisingly immediate and effective. He felt chipper again, and he flared up his own flames. “Thank you, Sora, I am well now,” he said, taking a step away. Now that he was alert, he looked over Sora and saw that she, too, seemed to have been drenched by a water attack. “How did the test go?”

The Monferno withdrew her hand and lowered her gaze. Lugia’s face fell.

Suddenly, Sora lifted her head and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Ha, you thought I’d fail, didn’t you?” she said with a grin, while Lugia rubbed his shoulder, wide-eyed. “I got a C+!”

“Well done,” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his tone.

Clearly noticing his astonishment, she puffed up her chest proudly. “And how did you do?”

“I received a B-,” he answered, scratching the back of his head.

“Awesome!” she exclaimed, and jumped at him with a hug. “So we did it!”

Lugia grunted as the gesture reminded him of all his subtle pains, but more noteworthy was Sora’s genuine happiness. In spite of how crucial it was to him, it seemed odd that she would be so moved by their success. He patted her on the back to end the hug. “I’m not sure whether this confirms our acceptance. However, I can’t help but wonder – have you been here before, Sora?”

She froze unexpectedly for a moment before the grin reasserted itself, but Lugia made sure to remember her slipup. “Yeah, I’ve visited a few times,” she replied, putting an arm around him and forcing the start of their walk down the hall. “But come on, let’s go to the lobby and wait for the Guildmaster!”

Frowning, Lugia decided not to pursue the subject, although he thought about it for a while longer. Why would she be so unsettled by such a trivial question? What did it matter if she’d been there before or not?

Well, there wasn’t much to be gained from speculation. They stayed silent for a while but after a few minutes, Sora seemed to have moved on and initiated a conversation about their respective battles. He told her about the items he and Kyriak had chosen, and how he’d defied petrification – she was awed by that, and promised to try it herself sometime. She then recounted her own fight against a Pelipper. The effects of their items had negated themselves from the onset, but apparently Sora had managed to overpower the bird with the Rock Slide move she knew, presumably thanks to a TM.

Just by looking at her, Lugia wouldn’t have thought she was capable of learning such a move. It would be reassuring to have someone dependable by his side.

For what, he was not yet certain. As they reached the lobby and sat at an unoccupied table to wait, he wondered what they would do here. Perhaps Sora didn’t fully appreciate it yet, but he obviously wasn’t there to explore or rescue; he was there to find the Entercards he needed to return to his body. He wasn’t even sure if Ren and Sora would be able to continue being members once he was gone.

Still, there was no harm in Sora enjoying the time she could have at the guild, was there? He could focus on his own goal and let her do as she pleased. That would probably put her in less danger anyway, allowing him to keep his promise to Harlow.

That said, he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to inquire about the Entercards – if they were as rare and guarded as Harlow had made them sound, Pokémon might find it suspicious if he asked too much about them.

Ah, well, one step a time – he would deal with the problem once it faced him. For now, he didn’t yet know if they’d been accepted. To learn that, he had to do nothing but wait.


	5. Chapter 5

“Ren and Sora,” Zahir called, appearing only briefly at the edge of the room before retreating into the hall to his chamber.

Lugia had become so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed it, but it didn’t matter since Sora nudged him and once again practically dragged him off his chair. She didn’t say anything, but her tail flame blazed intensely, and her eyes were wide with anticipation.

By the time they entered, Zahir was seated exactly as he was before, motionless and striking. They scarcely closed the door behind themselves before he said, “Pancratius and Reid were certainly singing your praises. It seems you are eligible for entry after all.”

He sounded like he wasn’t thrilled about that, but Sora grinned nonetheless.

Placing his pincers together, the Scizor leaned forward. “Tell me, why do you wish to join Modrall Guild?”

What a loaded question, Lugia thought to himself.

As expected, Sora didn’t waste any time in answering. “I want to help other Pokémon in any way I can! And I want to explore, too – I think the more we discover about the world around us, the better everyone’s lives will be.”

Nodding ever so subtly, the steel type then turned to Lugia. “And you?”

He should have foreseen he’d be asked as well, but he didn’t have an answer ready. Other than rephrasing Sora, what could he really say? Of course, the real reason he wanted to join Modrall Guild was to find the Entercards he needed, but such an answer obviously wouldn’t do.

He glanced upward pensively. In his rightful body, he spent the majority of his time out of sight from the rest of the world. It was the nature of his species, with its immense and untamable power. As a child, he’d refused to accept it - he’d always been curious, always wished to see the world for himself, not through dreams and telepathy like his ancestors did. That wish died for good in the Great Hurricane of Modrall, when he learned that all the warnings he’d ignored were true after all, and a life of isolation was necessary.

Yet there he was, walking the earth like an ordinary Pokémon. Odd how until now, he’d been so bent on getting back to his old self that he didn’t realize how free he was.

“I have seen little of what the world has to offer,” he said finally, lowering his gaze back to Zahir, whose wings twitched, “and I have experienced what it is like to be in dire need of assistance. I do not wish these things upon anyone else, and joining Modrall Guild would be the best way to achieve that.”

“Adequate answers,” the Scizor remarked dryly, though his eyes lingered on Lugia for a while, making him self-conscious of his wording. “Very well, you two are accepted.”

Out of nowhere, Sora let out a squeal that made Lugia’s ears ring, but before he could cover them, he was enveloped in another of the Monferno’s hugs. This one was rib-crushingly tight and left him in a daze.

“Inside voice, please,” Zahir growled, his pincers having moved slightly towards his ears, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “You had better behave yourself. I don’t know how it goes in the Guild for the Young and Challenged, but we are professionals here, and you should act accordingly.”

Lugia didn’t feel affected by the scolding, but Sora deflated noticeably.

“Let me also remind you that you are not legally under our care,” the Scizor went on. “Your official guardian remains Harlow.”

This time, it was Lugia who was surprised, but he didn’t get much time to think as Zahir reached into a chest behind him and placed two bags on the desk. “Now then. Are you keeping your team name?”

“Yep!” Sora answered immediately, her tail swishing.

Lugia raised a brow. He hadn’t thought about it, but it made sense that they already had a name.

“Do you agree?” Zahir asked, turning to him.

“I have no objections,” Lugia replied, shrugging. It wasn’t his place to gripe about their team name, whatever it turned out to be. 

At his response, Sora beamed happily.

“Very well, Team Soren,” the Scizor said, grimacing as the words left his mouth. “Sign this consent form, please.”

It was indeed somewhat of an uninspired name, Lugia thought to himself as he waited for the Monferno to have her turn with the form, but again, it was none of his concern.

Once Sora handed him the paper, he skimmed over it and signed with the quill she also handed him. It was odd, writing “Ren” – it felt like just another word.

Lugia handed Zahir the form, and he set it aside. 

“Now that you are members, you both get these bags,” the steel type said, sliding the aforementioned bags towards them. Glancing at Sora, he added, “As you now represent Modrall Guild, you must use these bags, and none other.”

The Monferno’s tail drooped for a moment, but she grabbed one of the bags eagerly and held it close to her. While Lugia took his, she simply cradled hers for a while, staring at it fondly.

“Inside each you’ll find a badge, a map of the region, and a rulebook that you must read,” Zahir said, leaning back against the backrest.

Lugia took his word for it, but Sora reached into the bag and pulled out the badge and admired it with gleaming eyes, as though it were some rare jewel. Naturally, she did not regard the rulebook this way.

“The rank of your team is the average of your individual ranks rounded down, which makes you a C+ ranked team.” The Scizor leaned forward again, fixating his gaze on Lugia since Sora’s attention was being focused elsewhere. “You may not attempt missions above the rank of your team rank. Your first mission, I shall choose.”

At this, Sora perked up. “Is this for today?”

“Of course,” Zahir said bluntly. “Unless you have better things to do?”

Frowning, Lugia shared a glance with Sora. Having to go on a mission so soon would only delay any investigation on the Entercards, but… Zahir’s tone didn’t make it sound like he’d accept anything but compliance.

“What is the mission?” Lugia asked flatly, trying to hide his discontent.

“You shall travel to Korrin, announce yourselves at the village hall, and escort an appointed worker through the Korrin Salt Flat dungeon to mark its end,” the Scizor said, slightly less icily, as he read from what must have been a mission request on his desk. “This dungeon has only formed recently, and the villagers have only managed to find the beginning, afraid of venturing deeper. As this is a prominent location for the villagers, charting the dungeon is quite a significant matter, as simple as it may be. Any questions?”

“Nope!” Sora chirped, slinging her bag over her shoulder, evidently finished with its dissection and having no problem with carrying two bags simultaneously. “You can count on us.”

“Your room assignments are M7 and F3,” the steel type said, sparing the Monferno no attention. “Dismissed.”

Sora bowed respectfully while Lugia nodded, and together they walked out of the room. He was glad that conversation was over, although having to go on a mission wasn’t much better. Idly, he turned his head to observe Sora, who was, as always, marching forward resolutely. It was somewhat surprising that she had no reaction to hearing that they would be sleeping in separate rooms, but at this point it was obvious that this wasn’t her first time in Modrall Guild, and that she was quite familiar with its proceedings. She’d been secretive about it earlier, too – was it him that she was uncomfortable telling, or Ren?

Noticing his gaze, the fire type gave him an eager smile. “Isn’t it great, our first mission!” she exclaimed, pumping her fists into the air. They had just reentered the main hall, and several Pokémon eyed her disapprovingly.

“Yes, it’s quite wonderful,” he droned, his ears flattening in response to the volume of her voice. “I assume we are undertaking it immediately?”

She slowed at that, looking at him as though he’d said something vulgar. “Well, yeah. Aren’t you at least a little excited?” she asked, more subdued, as they exited the building. For a brief moment, Lugia was once again taken aback by the salty scent.

Sighing, he stopped in front of the statue of the Nidoking, fixing his eyes on it. “Sora, I am here to find the Entercards,” he said, trying to make Ren’s frail voice sound firm. “Anything else is a distraction.”

Sora stopped, too, and lowered her gaze. “So… all that stuff you said to Guildmaster Zahir… you just made it up? You don’t really care about exploring or helping anyone?”

Glancing around to make sure there was no one close enough to eavesdrop, he turned back to the Monferno and frowned. It wasn’t his intention to come across as callous, but it would be too difficult to explain himself. “What I said was not entirely false. But it is far more important that I return to my body as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

The question took Lugia off guard, and he stood speechlessly for a moment. ‘Why?’ Did she _want_ him to keep inhabiting her brother?

“I mean, obviously you can’t stay here,” she said, crossing her arms, as though she’d heard his thoughts. “But… why is it that important? It’s just… helping others is a distraction to you? I thought Legendary Pokémon were supposed to be kind, help others…”

Lugia blinked, a little stung by her earnest words. It was true that his focus was on reaching his goals, but he didn’t think he’d been neglecting anyone. In fact, he thought he’d been doing a decent job at posing as an ordinary Quilava and getting through everyday interactions. 

But the way she spoke of what Legendaries were supposed to do – that was what he used to think, when he was much younger. Even now, he wasn’t comfortable shutting down Sora’s zest, but as Harlow had said, it would be unwise to let Sora get close to him. At the very least, an attachment would make things more difficult when he’d have to leave.

“That is what Pokémon would like to believe, I suppose,” he answered finally, resuming his walk in an attempt to dissuade conversation. “In reality, Legendaries associating with mortals can only end poorly for both parties.”

The Monferno kept up with his pace, and fortunately had the presence of mind to say nothing more as they passed by a group of Pokémon. Still, Lugia could see that she was pouting, and undoubtedly glaring at the back of his head whenever he turned away. It was safe to say that this wasn’t the last he’d heard from her.

Minutes later, they reached the main road and took the same direction they’d taken yesterday. The road there was wide and empty, and sure enough, Sora took the chance to continue where she’d left off. “How come; what’s so bad about Legendaries and”–she mimed air quotes–“ _mortals_ being together?”

Sighing, Lugia hung his head a bit. It would have been easier to ignore her had the topic not felt so personal to him. Having isolated himself for the sake of mortals, he almost felt obliged to explain. It was vain of him, but… perhaps she would understand and let it be? 

“Some Legendaries have powers they cannot entirely control,” he replied, looking away. “Groudon, for instance, involuntarily cause rather drastic increases in temperature, increases that would ruin the lives of many Pokémon. So you see, for the most part, it is safe only for Legendaries to keep other Legendaries company.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” the Monferno said, her eyes wide. She moved a little closer to him. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Lugia turned back to her quizzically. Was she actually concerned for him?

“Never mind that,” he said casually, diverting his attention to the markets of Modrall Square as they passed them. “Let us focus on the mission. Have you been to Korrin before?”

For a few moments she kept looking at him as though expecting him to say something else, but eventually caved. “No, but I know where it is. What about you?”

“I am in a similar position.”

This seemed to put an end to the conversation, at least for a time. Sora glanced at him occasionally, and Lugia could tell she was brooding over something, but at least it was most likely no longer regarding his lack of enthusiasm. Still, despite knowing how unbefitting of him it was, he couldn’t help but wonder what she thought of him.

That interest receded rather quickly when he recalled the situation at hand. While there was no word from Articuno as of yet, and no more disappearances had been reported, Lugia simply wouldn’t take the risk of being idle. He’d also made a promise that he would leave Ren and Sora as soon as he was able, so there wasn’t any reason to dawdle and try to make friends with them.

That being said, the path to Korrin was, sadly, a long one. Taking the shortest route, which was fortunately devoid of mystery dungeons, it would take them at least two hours to get there – and that was generous, considering he would probably tire and slow quite soon.

As the two of them passed the walls of the town and went straight at the fork, his thoughts turned to his conversation with Zahir and Sora. As much as he knew he had to return to his body as soon as possible, he couldn’t deny that some aspects of life as a Quilava were thrilling. Beyond the obvious lack of having to worry about decimating cities, so many things were different. Sure, he could no longer sense and read the minds of others, but even amongst Legendaries, unsolicited telepathy was frowned upon, and not always possible anyway due to stronger mental barriers. And he could no longer fly or live underwater, of course, but was that really so incredible?

As a Quilava, he was so small that it felt as though even a slight breeze could send him off balance. Indeed, he’d almost been incapacitated by one meager Water Gun from Kyriak, and even now, he could feel the strain of his muscles as he trod on the dirt path. But it was an invigorating strain, one that he hadn’t felt for a long time as a Lugia. Though his breathing was heavy, it filled him with the scent of the earth, the wind, and the leaves, and the jabbing ache in his ribs only reminded him that he was, contrary to all odds, marching onward in the world of mortals.

Minutes dragged by, and to occupy himself, he let himself observe his surroundings. The beginning of their journey took them through a dark forest, but presently they found themselves in a plain that let him see as far as the eye could. His knowledge of the area was impersonally cartographic, and seeing the stretches of land in front of him brought a certain wonder to him. As a being with the power to manipulate dreams, he had imagined plenty of landscapes, but this one somehow felt quainter and _right_.

“So, what’re the Zero Isles like?”

Lugia started, almost having forgotten that Sora was there. She was still right beside him, but her eyelids were drooping and her back was arched. 

“They are not all too remarkable,” he answered tersely.

“Oh, come on,” she whined, stomping a foot. “Can you tell me more, please? I’m so bored; I feel like we’ve been walking for hours.”

They had, in fact, been walking for just shy of an hour, but it couldn’t be helped – the young did tend to be impatient, after all. “If you desire something with which to occupy yourself, I suggest reading the rulebook,” Lugia said, almost dryly.

“Ugh, no,” the fire type scoffed. She then nudged him and fixed him with pleading eyes. “C’mon, tell me? Please?”

He sighed audibly, which, judging by her barely restrained cheer, the Monferno immediately took as a sign of concession. He was hesitant to have a prolonged conversation, but she did look in dire need of diversion.

“Very well,” he said, clearing his throat. “The Zero Isles are a group of five dungeons in the center of the Sand Continent. They are the oldest and largest mystery dungeons known to Pokémon, and thus are of particular interest to speleologists”–he noted her blank expression–“Pokémon who study dungeons?”

“You sound like a textbook,” Sora said, waving her hands dismissively. “Tell me about the time you went there!”

Turning away momentarily, he bit his lip. The conversation topic had once again returned to him, unfortunately, but at this point Sora probably wouldn’t accept silence or an abrupt subject change as an answer. Perhaps he could entertain her with some history, then? That seemed neutral enough.

“I have not been there myself,” he replied, shaking a twig from the pad of his paw, “But as I’m sure you know, Team Ailon found nothing noteworthy in the dungeons. So, what is the purpose of such a vast dungeon? Surely, such a dungeon, with its hordes of powerful wild Pokémon, must hold a great secret?”

It was silly sensationalism, and Lugia wasn’t even sure if he sounded at all compelling, yet Sora’s eyes were already wide and alert.

“I can tell you for certain that Team Ailon were not the first to successfully explore the dungeons,” he went on, unwittingly becoming more impassioned as he recalled the memories. “Many Legendaries were once gathered there, in the very heart of Zero Isle Center. And while there is no great treasure or anything material of that sort, a historical event took place in that exact location.”

He took a deep breath – he was about to speak of matters that existed only as mythology to mortals, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in it, and it would surely give the fire type something to think about. “Have you heard of the Pokémon Giratina?”

The Monferno flinched at the name, and wrung her wrists uneasily. “Yeah… Growing up, we were told all sorts of stories about him, that he’s a violent Pokémon who drags children into the Reverse World if they misbehave or something.” She stiffened abruptly. “Is… is that real?”

Lugia couldn’t help but chuckle internally. Of all the despicable things that could be said of Giratina, that was not one of them. “The Giratina I speak of was female, and was much worse than that, I’m afraid.”

Intrigued, Sora cocked her head and said nothing.

“Giratina was a tyrant, exercising her power by slaughtering thousands of Pokémon. It was only a matter of time before Legendaries like Arceus demanded that she stop, but–”

“Whoa, Arceus is real?” the Monferno exclaimed, her jaw agape.

Rolling his eyes, Lugia nodded. Having been aware of the prevalence of Arceus worship amongst mortals, her reaction was unsurprising but nonetheless odd for him to witness firsthand. “He is just as real as I am. He is not, however, the divine creature your religions would have you believe he is.”

“Oh.”

“In any case, even after Arceus’ demand, Giratina did not stop. And so it came to pass that numerous Legendaries united to subdue her. But regardless of what they tried, she would not fall.”

He stopped for dramatic effect, and was somewhat pleased to see that Sora was entirely engrossed in the tale, waiting for his next word with bated breath. It spurred him to continue.

“It was then that Arceus decided to call upon numerous dimensionally and psychically talented Legendaries, one of which was an ancestor of mine, and instead found a way to banish her to an alternate dimension that we call the Reverse World. However, it had the unanticipated side-effect of spawning mystery dungeons, the first of which were the Zero Isles.”

The Monferno was silent for a while, as though in a trance. “Wow,” she breathed finally, looking at him with renewed vigor. “Is there anything… anything left of what happened? What about Giratina, is she still alive?”

“Nobody can access the Reverse World, so we can only hope she is not,” he replied. “As for the Zero Isles, no, nothing is left of the event.”

Once more she was speechless, and for a moment Lugia thought the conversation was over. He would have been content with that, as he was now slightly worried that he’d said too much, but at least he seemed to have succeeded in alleviating her boredom, which filled him with some sense of accomplishment.

“But you said you weren’t actually there,” Sora exclaimed suddenly with a swish of her tail. “What if there’s something nobody has found yet, not even Team Ailon?”

“There is nothing,” Lugia repeated, shaking his head. How typical for youth to see mystery where there was none.

“How do you know?” she said with a challenging stare.

It was a reasonable question, but at that point Lugia was growing rather weary of the seemingly endless interrogation. He’d rather been hoping that after the story, she’d leave him be. “My mate explored the dungeons thoroughly and shared the memories with me,” he replied, with an attempted air of finality. “Trust me, the Zero Isles contain little of value.”

“Mate?” she said after a short pause, her ears perking up. “You have a… wait. Legendaries have mates?”

It was then that Lugia realized he might have broached a topic that he shouldn’t have and mentally reprimanded himself. Resolutely, he decided to ignore her question, and focused instead on the ground before him. Sora seemed to take this itself as an answer, and drew back.

“Wow,” she said, scratching her chin in thought. “I mean, it makes sense, but… for some reason I always thought Legendaries were… I don’t know, above that kind of stuff.”

Lugia merely offered a subtle shrug in response. Suddenly she burst into giggles, and he raised a brow.

“I just imagined Arceus kissing a Purugly,” she managed to blurt out before doubling over in laughter.

Rolling his eyes, Lugia left her to her chortling and took the opportunity to take note of their surroundings. Surprisingly, he had become absorbed enough in the conversation to lose track of their exact progress, but seeing the thin line of trees on the horizon behind him told him they still had around an hour to go.

“Sorry, sorry,” the Monferno said cheerfully, her voice still shaky as she recovered her breathing. “But it’s great that you have someone! Who is it?”

The thought of Articuno warmed him and it was tempting to answer, but he stopped himself with a frown. He’d told her a substantial amount already, and this seemed too much, too personal.

Seeming to have noticed his reluctance, Sora lowered her head. “Well, you don’t have to tell me, I guess.”

Lugia glanced at her. He’d expected her to press the matter like she had with the Zero Isles, but maybe she recognized the more private nature of her question. Or, she was no longer insufferably bored. Either way, he gave a small nod of appreciation.

Shuffling her feet over the trodden path, the Monferno turned upward in thought. “Could you tell me more about what Arceus is like?” she asked instead, stretching her arms.

Inexplicably, Lugia felt compelled to answer her after denying her previously. After all, they still had a good while to go, and besides, describing Arceus was pretty harmless. In fact, to Lugia, it was a very ordinary question, as he knew Arceus reasonably well and did not view him as divine or even particularly superior. And so, he told her about Arceus and how he set life on the planet in motion. She was stunned by that, of course, but her amazement dwindled somewhat when he told her that Arceus had very little interest in the lives of Pokémon, and that if he were to be considered a god at all, he would be an impersonal one. Lugia also explained how the vast majority of Arceus’ powers had disappeared upon breathing life into the world, and how he was now actually considered one of the weaker Legendaries.

She was wordless after that. He should have been relieved, but, barring the topics he felt he shouldn’t speak of, sharing his knowledge with someone who lacked it felt quite fulfilling.

The silence persisted for minutes on end, until the village of Korrin crept into view from behind a slope. The sight of it seemed to energize Sora, who bounded ahead, leaving Lugia to jog after her, wincing as each step was met with a pang of pain in his side. He’d just have to endure it.

The path progressively morphed into cobblestone until they reached a sign reading “Korrin,” and just like that the first half of their travel was over. Of course, they still had to find the village hall, but that was a simple matter of asking one of the villagers. There were plenty of them outside, ambling, playing, or working – it was probably more comfortable that way, because most of the houses looked decrepit. The sight of them seemed to deject Sora a little.

Notwithstanding, she automatically took the lead and marched without hesitation into the relatively well-maintained building that was the village hall. Lugia followed her and watched idly as she walked up to a Gardevoir behind a counter and told her of their mission. The psychic Pokémon understood and left to summon the worker they would be escorting.

He was somewhat surprised by the way Sora handled herself. Beneath her effervescent personality was clearly someone who knew how to get around.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the Gardevoir returned with an abnormally tall Gurdurr who carried a green marking pole with him. A pronounced frown on his face didn’t spell good things for them.

“Wait, what?” the fighting type exclaimed upon seeing them. “These kids? Is this a joke?”

Indeed, there it was.

“No, sir, we’re Team Soren from Modrall Guild, here to assist you,” the Monferno declared, standing tall with her arms akimbo. She sounded assured and almost rehearsed, leading Lugia to wonder if she hadn’t been mentally practicing the line during their long walk.

The Gurdurr sighed and then grimaced. He glanced at the Gardevoir, but she merely nodded. “Fine,” he grumbled, shifting the weight of the post. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you.”

Sora acted as though she hadn’t heard and led them out of the building. She paused for a moment, scanned the area, and then continued on to the left.

“The Salt Flat’s this way,” the Gurdurr said, pointing behind himself with a finger.

The fire type shuddered, but in the blink of an eye, she had corrected her course and was in front of them again.

Slightly amused, Lugia kept pace with her. Though she was probably experienced for her age, it was safe to say that he knew more about demarcating and traversing dungeons than she did, and he wanted to be there if she faltered. After all, he wasn’t sure how lenient Modrall Guild would be if they failed, and he’d rather avoid any unnecessary setbacks.

Did Sora even know how to find the boundary of a dungeon? Lugia could only assume so, given that she raised no questions to Zahir. It didn’t help that they weren’t given much information about the dungeon – Zahir had only called it simple, but that wasn’t very specific. Was it the layout that was simple, was it short? And what of the Pokémon? Now that Lugia had further tested Ren’s condition, he was even less enthusiastic about facing any enemies. It didn’t help that his legs already felt somewhat leaden, or that they didn’t have many items with them.

Ultimately, he’d just have to trust the system, and trust that a low ranked team like theirs wouldn’t be assigned an overly dangerous mission. Sighing, his gaze floated lazily to the sky as they made their way through the village. They would find out soon enough.

“So, how d’you know where a dungeon begins and ends?” the Gurdurr asked as they crossed through a narrow alley. “Don’t they change all the time?”

Lugia wanted to believe it was a genuine question, but the restraint in the fighting type’s voice made it sound like he was evaluating them. Besides, the villagers had already marked the dungeon entrance, so the workers were likely aware of the standard procedure.

“The marks we place aren’t absolute boundaries,” Sora said eagerly. “They just indicate the farthest known reach of the dungeon.”

The Gurdurr scratched his chin. “Okay, and how do you find that?”

At this point, Lugia let his thoughts wander, only listening in case Sora floundered. She did not; she described one method of demarcation reasonably well. It was the gravity test, where a team would split up and drop identical objects until one of them fell faster as a result of dimensionally warped gravity. There was nothing for him to add, either; this was probably the most efficient procedure for them to follow, unless they got lucky and the dungeon had a clear-cut end, like the Hill of Beginnings.

“Huh, not bad,” the fighting type remarked with a nod. “Looks like you know your stuff.”

Even Sora seemed to bristle with indignation at that, but before she could speak, the Gurdurr said, “I’m Tavi. And you are?”

“I’m Sora, and this is Ren,” the Monferno said, motioning towards Lugia, who raised his paw in greeting.

Tavi smirked. “And… you’re Team Soren, huh? Neat.”

Even though the statement sounded sarcastic to Lugia, it seemed to increase the spring in Sora’s step, and she led the two males forward at a speed slightly faster than Lugia would have preferred.

At this point, they had left behind most of the houses, and found themselves on a single path that snaked down the slope. Lugia kept himself alert, as he was curious to see what the Korrin Salt Flat looked like from up close.

They rounded the last bend, and Lugia’s curiosity was answered. Ahead of him, in the basin between hills, he saw the earth transform into white, from the distance almost resembling a displaced patch of the ice-capped summit of a mountain. It sparkled in the afternoon sun, making it almost too bright to look at.

“What do you think?” Tavi asked proudly, watching their reactions. Sora, too, was staring at the salt flat, her jaw agape.

“It’s beautiful,” Sora answered softly, and, if it was even possible, accelerated further.

Fortunately, Lugia didn’t have to run to catch up, because she halted upon reaching the green marking pole. Once Lugia and Tavi arrived, the three stood by it for a moment. Next to them was sign that read, “Danger: Keep Out.”

“The first worker who got lost in the dungeon got attacked by some ferals,” the Gurdurr said, setting down the pole he carried with a grunt. “So we never go in anymore. But this salt flat is an important site for us; we can’t just leave it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it through,” Sora said, her tail flaming blazing intensely.

They might make it through, Lugia thought to himself, but they certainly would not be able to purge the dungeon from existence. The only manner in which dungeons had been known to recede was of their own accord. Tavi probably knew this, too, so his statement made little sense – more than likely, the fighting type was attempting to conceal his fear. And it was a sound fear; Lugia himself was concerned by the mention of Pokémon attacks. 

Nevertheless, Tavi nodded and picked up the post once more. “If you pipsqueaks think you’re up to it,” he said, flexing his muscles.

“Stay behind us; we’ll protect you,” Sora instructed resolutely, assuming her position at the front. Tavi scoffed.

Lugia stood next to her, and the two shared a glance – it was time for Team Soren’s first Modrall Guild mission to truly begin.


	6. Chapter 6

The Korrin Salt Flat was even more striking from within. The pearly white ground truly did remind of snow, but the rough texture pricking Lugia’s paws quickly dispelled such an illusion. Still, the wintery appearance was supported by a strange cold, a cold that seemed to disregard the brilliant afternoon sun.

It didn’t bother Lugia much, as he knew thermal anomalies weren’t uncommon in mystery dungeons. The heat of two fire types was sufficient to keep the group warm anyway – especially since Sora had moved closer to him as they progressed through the mounds of rock and salt. He’d thought of saying something, but it was surely another instance of her perceiving him as Ren.

In any case, Lugia had greater things to concern himself with, namely how to advance. With this dungeon being newly formed and his knowledge of the area being limited, he was just about as disoriented as anyone else. He couldn’t make assumptions about this dungeon’s layout, so he couldn’t use the follow-the-wall trick he’d used at the Hill of Beginnings. He wasn’t entirely clueless either, but the sensation of not knowing what was behind the next corner was refreshing. While Tavi seemed somewhat fidgety, gripping the marking totem tightly, Lugia walked forward readily with his fires alight.

“Did you guys hear something?” the fighting type demanded, for the fifth time since they’d entered. His tough façade had all but crumbled.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Tavi,” Sora said, also for the fifth time, turning back to him with a smile and a reassuring wave. “Dungeons are often quite noisy, because of how they’re always changing.”

Lugia nodded. Even in contrast with the mostly silent backdrop, the various cracks and rumbles that occasionally echoed past them didn’t faze him. In a way, they were similar to the sporadic sounds he heard in the sea.

Sora didn’t seem satisfied with Tavi’s lack of a positive reaction, however. “When was the last time you went here, Mr. Tavi?”

“About a week ago,” the fighting type answered, eyes darting about apprehensively.

“And back then, how long would you say it took you to walk through the Salt Flat?”

“Maybe half an hour.” Tavi shook his head and rapped one of the walls with his fist. “But that was before all of this appeared. Now it’s like a damned maze.”

“Still, that means the dungeon must be quite small!” the Monferno said cheerfully, gesturing at the path ahead of her. “I bet we’re almost there already.”

The Gurdurr said nothing, but after a while his shoulders seemed to relax, and he stopped holding the stake like some sort of weapon.

That was certainly a good development, but Lugia couldn’t appreciate it for long as the dull ache returned to his steps. Perhaps exhaustion was finally catching up to him, or they had entered an especially warped area of the dungeon. Whatever it was, as they trod on into the shadow of a towering crystalline structure of salt, it made Lugia think of how long the day had been, and how hungry he was. But instantly upon thinking this, he stopped himself. Why would he be noticing these things so suddenly?

The answered came to him with a sniff – his sensitive Quilava nose couldn’t miss the scent of the freshest fruit that permeated the air. But now that he’d identified it, it no longer filled him with delight but with unease, as he knew that this was no natural smell.

“There is another Pokémon nearby,” he said, just loudly enough for his companions to hear.

Sora had just seemed to notice the scent, too, and tensed. “Stay close, Mr. Tavi,” she said to the Gurdurr, who went rigid.

“How do you know?” he asked, back to looking fretfully in all directions.

The Monferno inhaled loudly through her nose. “Can you smell it? The Sweet Scent.”

If Lugia had been his rightful self, he could have identified the wild Pokémon right there. Now, as there was no consistent wind, he had no way of determining the scent’s origin but judging its intensity. Frowning, he let Sora guide them forward at a slower pace while he angled his head upward and focused on the smell. 

Inhaling more of it certainly didn’t help the hunger that was gnawing at his stomach, to the point where he began to doubt his own senses. But as the ground took a more pronounced downward slope and they crept onward, deeper into the midst of the salt pillars, suddenly the scent became so potent it made him teary-eyed.

“The Pokémon is close,” he whispered, rather nasally as he scrunched his nose in an attempt to block it.

As if to confirm his statement, the ground shook with a great thud. Lugia flinched, while Sora let out a yelp and put an arm around him. Tavi scooted even closer to them and held the marking pole defensively. He probably didn’t trust them to fight for him.

That was understandable. Honestly, if Lugia were in Tavi’s position, he probably wouldn’t trust them with his life, either.

“You said a worker was attacked by ferals,” Lugia muttered, subtly dislodging himself from Sora’s hold. “Do you know what species they were?”

“They were Ursaring,” the fighting type said, his voice hitching as the earth trembled one more.

_Ursaring_ , Lugia thought. He ignored Sora’s expression of surprise at the Pokémon being outside of its natural habitat – if she didn’t truly understand what ferals were, this was not the place to explain. Instead, he reminded himself of the items they had, and frowned upon realizing that they only had the few Oran Berries they’d brought from their previous guild.

It would be an unassisted fight, then. Was it just one Ursaring? They could overpower a lone wild Pokémon, right?

Another thud made him stumble, and the acidic pain in his limbs reminded him that he wasn’t going to be overpowering anybody. But there was still a chance to avoid confrontation, he told himself. The appearance of ferals, the sense of increased gravity that was surely responsible for his accelerated fatigue – it all bespoke of them being deep in the dungeon, which, if they were lucky, could also mean that they were near the end. Of course, that also meant that they had to continue in this potentially treacherous direction.

In the span of those considerations, Sora had moved in front of him, probably to protect him. As valiant and sensible as it may have been, it made him grind his teeth in discontent. It wasn’t her responsibility to risk herself like that for their sake; it was, or at least should have been, his.

This reality filled him with apprehension as they rounded the jagged corner of a rocky spire, but much to his relief they emerged in an opening flooded with sunlight, light that momentarily dazzled him but stoked his fires and invigorated his body.

They simply stood there, adjusting to the brightness. Lugia didn’t have to see to know that fortune had indeed smiled upon them; the sensation of weight having been lifted from his shoulders told him that they’d left the dungeon. There was no other circumstance that yielded the same effect.

“It’s Eka’s pickaxe,” Tavi exclaimed, his voice a rough whisper. He pointed at a single pickaxe that lay conspicuously in the center of the enclosure. For that’s what Lugia saw it to be, now that his eyes had gotten used to the light – an illuminated, empty space surrounded by encroaching salt towers.

“This is the dungeon’s end,” he said, feeling that that information took precedence. The quakes had stopped, and the air was refreshingly pure, devoid of the Sweet Scent. He let himself relax slightly, and relished the feeling of sunlight against his hide.

Sora bobbed her head in agreement, and gave a sigh. Then, as if suddenly charged with energy, she bound ahead to the tool on the ground. “Who’s Eka?”

Tavi stepped forward reluctantly, but seemed to be persuaded by the light of the room. “She was the worker who got attacked. She dropped the pickaxe while running away.”

The tool in question, Lugia found as he glanced at it, was quite nondescript, with only a green ribbon wrapped around the head to distinguish it from the surely numerous tools just like it.

“Well, we can bring it back to her, then,” Sora said cheerfully, evidently having completely moved on from the danger they had been in moments ago.

The Gurdurr nodded and set one end of the pole down against the ground. Wiping his forehead, he gave a brief chuckle, and waved at the walls as if the place had been a disappointment. “So, this is it, huh? That wasn’t so bad.”

Judging by her smile and her gesture of dusting off her hands, Sora seemed to humor him. “Now we can just place the marker and leave,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Tavi and Sora proceeded to make conversation about the exact location the stake should be driven into, and Lugia decided to take the opportunity to let his gaze wander about the room.

There wasn’t much to look at. The pale blocks of salt made a ring around the opening, unbroken save for the path they had taken, making the entirety of the small enclosure easily visible. The entrance, Lugia saw, was where his companions had decided to set the marking pole. Presently, Tavi was working on digging a suitable hole, aided by their convenient find of the pickaxe.

Something about the pickaxe disturbed him, though, and made him peer warily into the dungeon that lay just steps beyond. When they’d arrived, he’d never questioned the cessation of the noise or the Sweet Scent, and had assumed this area was safe. Indeed, ferals were not known to stray outside of the dungeon, but the pickaxe… Tavi had said Eka had been attacked and dropped it at some point, but this was a fixed dead end; she could not have come here after her attack.

His stomach tightened at that realization. How could he have been so slow? Either Eka had been attacked here, or the feral had moved the pickaxe. Whichever it was, it didn’t mean anything good. Was it conceivable that the feral, or ferals, were simply biding their time, waiting for an opportune time to strike?

“Sora, I think we should leave,” he said, moving close to them. Tavi had just finished inserting the stake into the earth, and backed off to inspect his handiwork.

The Monferno turned to Lugia with concern, but Lugia was no longer paying attention to her. Instead, his eyes caught the shifting of shadows in the murky corner behind her.

He didn’t have time to shout. The shape lunged out of the dark and slammed into Sora’s small frame, knocking her down. The Ursaring, vivid and ferocious under the light, did not relent and jumped at her again, mauling her with his claws.

Her screams jolted Lugia into movement. Without any forethought, he leapt at the ursine Pokémon and spat the strongest fire he could into his face. But Lugia’s grip on the Ursaring wasn’t firm, and with an agitated roar, the normal type lifted him off by the scruff of his neck and smashed him against the ground.

The entire world reeled and the air was knocked out of him, but somehow Lugia was able to get up again, lifted to his feet by a rush of adrenaline. He saw instantly that Tavi was grappling with the feral, but the Ursaring’s greater height gave him an insurmountable advantage. With a howl, the normal type pushed Tavi away and gave him a vicious uppercut to the chin.

Briefly, Lugia looked to Sora – she wasn’t moving. Tavi had gotten up but the fight in his eyes had been replaced by fear. This was a losing battle. They could only run, but Lugia couldn’t carry Sora, and the Ursaring stood between her and Tavi. Then there was the pickaxe that lay just a short distance away.

Seeing the feral advance towards Tavi, Lugia stepped forward and fired another Ember at the Ursaring’s back. The normal type turned slowly towards him, as if daring him to do it again, and curled his lip to expose his teeth.

“Tavi, carry Sora, we need to run,” he said between breaths, edging towards the pickaxe as the Ursaring lowered his body in preparation of attack.

Before Lugia could see Tavi’s response, the Ursaring charged, faster than Lugia had expected. He only just managed to grab the pickaxe and swing it wildly in front of himself before the mass of fur crashed into him and knocked him backwards. 

Though his vision dimmed, Lugia heard a yowl from the feral. Spurred by this, he rolled back to his feet, and saw the Ursaring clutching at the metal jutting from his thigh.

Lugia also saw, crucially, that Tavi had scooped up Sora into his arms. 

“Now run!” he yelled, and dashed towards the exit. Once he was sure the Gurdurr was behind him, he didn’t look back – he focused everything on the motion of his feet, and the direction in which he was travelling.

But at that point, his legs were beyond his control. In fact he couldn’t feel them at all anymore. _Look for the path that goes uphill_ , he screamed in his head, over and over, until it was as though he wasn’t capable of any other thought. Swirls of black blossomed in his vision and soon everything sounded as though he were underwater, yet he knew Tavi was behind him and he kept on running.

Suddenly the ground turned soft and matted, and the rhythm of his strides was broken. For a brief moment Lugia was airborne, then his entire body crashed.

The next thing he knew, there was something warm in front of him, a breath of sunlight against his fur when all else was cold. Dreamily, he inched towards it, and was rewarded with the warmth washing over his body. Then the floor beneath him gave way, and with a jolt Lugia awoke to find himself having rolled off a straw bed, in the direction of a small fire, and suddenly there was a Chansey in front of him.

“Oh dear!” the pink Pokémon exclaimed, helping Lugia return to his bed. “Are you all right?”

Still a bit startled from his awakening, Lugia took a moment to get his bearings. The bed he lay on was one of half a dozen in a very plain room, and on another bed, on the other side of a makeshift fireplace, lay Sora. He couldn’t see well through the flames, but she seemed to be asleep, and looked quite sickly, covered in bandages and the orange light. The two of them must have been brought to some sort of infirmary.

What was most important, of course, was that they had made it out alive.

The Chansey seemed to take his silence as a sign of distress, as she immediately leaned over to examine him with wide eyes. “Poor thing, you must be terrified!” Looking vastly more distraught than he felt, she held one of his paws in her own and stroked the pad. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now – you and your friend.”

“I am well, thank you,” Lugia said at last, attempting to sit up. However, he soon found that he could scarcely move, and his muscles seemed to have completely seized up.

With quick reaction time, the Chansey was there to catch his upper body from the short distance that he had managed to raise it. “No, you must rest!” she said, gently lowering his back onto the straw.

Lugia frowned at his incapacity, but at least he felt no pain. Certainly, he should have been experiencing some, given the exertion he’d been through, and the few scrapes and swells he could spot through his fur. The Chansey must have given them some pain relief.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, tilting her head worriedly. “No pain, no dizziness?”

He shook his head with as much motion he could muster.

The Chansey smiled and gave his paw a squeeze before releasing it, letting it fall onto his chest. “That’s good,” she said, sweet, but now more serious. “Still, you’ll have to stay in bed for at least the rest of the day.”

“I couldn’t leave if I tried,” he said, then glanced towards Sora. “How is she?”

The smile on the Chansey’s face receded somewhat as she turned momentarily towards the Monferno. “It might take a bit longer for her to get better… but she will be fine, don’t worry!”

The answer felt suspiciously like a white lie, but he saw no reason why Sora wouldn’t be able to recover physically. That was, at least, what he wanted to believe.

“I heard that you two are an exploration team,” the Chansey said hesitantly. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Lugia said. It was then that he remembered the mission. “Have you seen a Gurdurr named Tavi?”

“He was the one who brought you here,” she answered, lowering her gaze. “He also told me he would visit tomorrow morning.”

Tavi was all right, then? Did that mean their mission would be considered a success? Lugia closed his eyes – he sincerely hoped so. If the Gurdurr wasn’t satisfied, how would the guild take it? As it was, his search for the Entercards would be delayed enough due to this hospitalization, but what if a failure would intervene even further?

“It’s just unbelievable!” the Chansey exclaimed suddenly. Flinching, Lugia looked at her to see that her paws were clenched, and her eyes were burning with indignation. “Children as young as yourselves, being sent into a dungeon like that! What kind of guild does such a thing?”

Reclining his head, Lugia chose not to answer. It seemed like a rhetorical expression of anger, and she wouldn’t like to hear his opinion anyway. Yes, it was shocking for children to enter a mystery dungeon and narrowly escape the attack of a feral Pokémon, but they had been warned of the rigors of Modrall Guild; they had known that it handled serious missions unbefitting of children. In spite of all that, they had persisted through the application process, and the staff had deemed them capable of accomplishing tasks otherwise handled by adults. Ultimately, it was him and Sora that had signed up for this, and if Modrall Guild could be faulted for anything, it would be for accepting them in the first place. Of course, that was an unacceptable alternative, as the guild was his only link to the Entercards.

In the midst of these thoughts, Lugia stopped himself. Him and Sora. He was speaking for her as well. She did want to join Modrall Guild, didn’t she? It certainly seemed that way, judging by how happy she was, and how familiar she was with the place. But if not for him, would she have ever joined? Then, would she have ever been involved in this mission and the attack?

With this realization, Lugia turned to the fire solemnly. He couldn’t help but think of Harlow, and how her words were already proving to be true. Just by being with him, Sora was hurt.

How could he have possibly prevented that, though? Neither of them had much choice in this situation; Lugia had Transmigrated at random to escape death, and Sora felt compelled to stay with him because his host was her brother. And Lugia had to return to his body, but given how dangerous this journey was and probably would still be, how could he be expected to guarantee the safety of either of them?

“You must be very tired,” the Chansey said, and Lugia turned to her to find that she had been gazing at him silently for some time.

Lugia wasn’t in the mood to keep talking to her, so although he wasn’t particularly exhausted, he nodded and yawned.

“Well then, I’ll let you sleep,” she said, and shuffled over to a counter at the edge of the room. Lugia couldn’t lift his head sufficiently to see what she was doing, but soon she came back to his bed with a tray.

Even before he could see it, his nose sniffed out the scent, and he knew it was food. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.

“I thought you might be hungry,” the Chansey said happily, setting the tray down and giving him a few scratches under the chin. “Will you be able to eat on your own?”

“Yes, thank you,” Lugia answered, a bit disappointed when the scratching stopped. In his rightful state, he’d never accept being pampered like this by anyone but Articuno, but as a Quilava, somehow the simple touch was undeniably pleasurable and made him forget some of his troubles, if at least for a while.

The Chansey nodded and moved towards the doorway. “Okay then! If you or your friend need anything, just holler. Good night!”

Lugia replied in kind, and after a moment’s pause, set to work on the meal. It was more difficult than he’d expected, but, fueled by his hunger, he managed. His weak paw took far too long to grab each berry and neatly sliced piece of apple and move it to his mouth, but the wait and strain only made the food that much more savory.

Once he’d eaten his fill, drowsiness began to settle in. He watched, with drooping eyelids, as the flames dwindled and their light shimmered faintly on the walls.

“Ren?”

The hoarse voice stirred Lugia immediately, and he turned his head towards the fire, which had been reduced to glowing embers.

“Ren, are you awake?”

“I am,” he whispered, now fully alert. Her voice had been cracked, wavering. “Are you all right, Sora?”

He waited for an answer but none came, and he observed her anxiously. She lay on her back with a distant upward gaze. Her eyes glistened visibly in the firelight. This alone was enough cause for concern, so he called out for the Chansey.

The pink Pokémon rushed in with a flurry of footsteps, and instantly tended to the Monferno. Unlike him, Sora seemed to be in pain, wincing and whimpering with every movement the Chansey asked her to try. Except once to ask whether her brother was okay, the fire type said nothing.

It was only after she was given a meal and several restorative berries that Sora seemed able to relax somewhat, but she still said nothing, and simply complied with everything the Chansey said.

Minutes later, after repeatedly asking if Sora was all right and giving her a blanket, after replenishing the fire and bidding them good night, the Chansey left, leaving Lugia to wonder if he should speak.

“How are you feeling, Sora?” he asked.

The Monferno held the blanket close to her. “I’m fine,” she said quietly.

Lugia frowned. That could have been the end of the conversation, but seeing her so miserable made him feel that he should keep going, try to encourage her somehow. “We accomplished the mission, you know,” he said, his high-pitched voice helping him sound optimistic. “We demarcated the dungeon’s end – that was what was asked of us; nothing more.”

If Sora was happy to hear this, the only indication was her lips twitching in an attempt to force a smile. “That’s good.”

Now Lugia was confused; he’d thought she would be glad to hear that they’d succeeded, given how passionate she seemed to be about exploring. Was she too tired, or still feeling pain after all? “There is nothing left for us to do today,” he said, less brightly. “We should rest well for tomorrow.”

There was no answer at all this time. Lugia looked at her but there was no answer to be found in her expression. Resignedly, he lay back against the straw. By now, the darkness and the coziness of the fire had made him ready to nod off again. “Sleep well,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.

“Ren, please stay,” Sora said.

Lugia opened his eyes but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m right here,” he said, turning his head to face her. “But I cannot help you if you don’t tell me what is troubling you.”

The Monferno also turned, though it took her a bit longer. She sniffled. “It hurts, and… I’m scared.”

Lugia hesitated. Perhaps the Chansey had been right, and he and the guild had had unrealistic expectations of one as young as her. Yes, she’d appeared surprisingly capable and sensible for her age, but that only went so far. This was too much. “I sincerely apologize for forcing you to undertake this mission with me,” he said, diverting his gaze to the fire. “You should not have been there, and so I am responsible for your injuries. But we are safe now, Sora; we–”

“No, I wanted to go!” Sora said vehemently, but immediately she quieted back down, her eyes downcast. “I wanted to… but now, I don’t know.” She looked right at him, gravely. “We could’ve died, Ren! That Ursaring, he was going to kill us! And I couldn’t do anything…”

Lugia could only stare at her. Was she blaming herself for what happened?

The Monferno sniffled again. “I’ve always thought I wanted to be an explorer, but… this? I don’t think I can do it.”

Lugia shook his head in disbelief. “You may have much to learn, but that does not mean you are unfit to be an explorer.” Feeling unsatisfied by his words, he attempted a reassuring smile. “Modrall Guild may be too challenging for you now, but I am certain that in time, you will feel that you can belong there.”

For a moment Sora’s face lit up genuinely, and she looked at him happily, but then her eyes refocused as though she’d seen someone else, and some of that joy disappeared.

“I don’t know,” she said, shifting her blanket. “Maybe I will, but… I think once you’re gone, Ren and I will go back to Harlow’s Guild.”

Right, Lugia had almost forgotten. Without his presence, Ren was significantly mentally challenged. It made sense, then, that the siblings would return to their former guild, and it was nice to see that this did not seem to make Sora bitter. She really did seem to prioritize her brother over everything.

“I just wanted to be in Modrall Guild, at least for a little bit… Even if it’s like this, us being there means so much.”

Lugia nodded. Modrall Guild was indeed the most reputable guild for miles.

“Our parents wanted us to go there, you know,” the Monferno said after a pause. “They’re really high ranked explorers.”

Surprisingly, her voice carried not love and respect, but a hint of scorn. Lugia didn’t know where she was going with the conversation or why she was telling him, but it felt important. “You wish to make them proud, follow in their footsteps?” he asked carefully.

“No,” she answered, scrunching her nose. “I just like exploring. Ren, though”–her voice was gentle again–“he always wanted to get into Modrall Guild and prove them wrong.”

Once again Lugia surveyed his Quilava body. As supportive as he wanted to be, he couldn’t give Sora the false hope that Ren would make it into Modrall Guild on his own any time soon. Ren was undeniably out of shape and behind the curve regarding his fire abilities.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” Sora said sharply, watching him. “Ren’s never been in very good health, so he’d probably never get in.” She scoffed and smoke billowed from her nostrils. “But that doesn’t mean he’s anything less! He tries so hard; it’s not his fault.”

Lugia was speechless at the outburst, and suddenly the picture of Sora’s family became clear – Zahir had mentioned Harlow was their official guardian, which meant that Ren and Sora must have parted from their parents, most likely over their unrelenting pressure on and dissatisfaction with the youngest sibling.

Before he could stop himself, his thoughts turned to his own parents, and how he’d left them. They, too, had been upset with him, and he too had left them. It saddened him that that was the case, but he did not resent his parents for it. He understood that it was difficult for them to accept him. But Lugia as a species were expected to at some point sever all ties between themselves and their parents. This did not exist in most mortal species, so what could have been the blow to irrevocably destroy Ren and Sora’s relationship with their parents, to drive the two children from home?

“It was never my intention to demean Ren,” he said at last, feeling strangely self-aware.

Sighing, Sora pulled away one corner of the blanket. If she was no longer feeling cold, that was a good sign. “I know, I know, I’m just…”

Venting, Lugia finished to himself. It was apparent that unlike him, she was not over her parents. If they were as demanding as he suspected, failure would have made Sora think of them, and thinking of them would rekindle her animosity towards them, as a result of however they’d treated her brother.

“Do you think Ren will remember this?” she asked, almost guiltily. “Any of it?”

They’d had a similar conversation before, but Lugia knew she was asking for different reasons. Nevertheless, the answer remained the same. Ren’s consciousness was in all likelihood too inhibited to be aware of what was happening, let alone retain any memory of it.

Seeming to interpret his silence as an answer, Sora set aside her blanket entirely and stretched her limbs as far as she could manage, careful not to tear her bandages. “Sorry for this whole rant, I know you probably don’t want to hear it.” She yawned and nodded her head. “But I feel a lot better now, thanks.”

Lugia returned the nod. Now that Sora was better it was best for them to go to sleep, but Lugia found himself wishing to talk more. He wanted to know, he was genuinely curious – what happened to make her and Ren separate from their parents?

Well, he would not find out that night, and that was all right. “It is no trouble,” he said, and tentatively rolled to one side. Already the stiffness of his limbs had lessened, and he was able to assume the more comfortable position of lying on his stomach. “We should rest now if we want to be able to work tomorrow.”

“Right,” the Monferno said, nestling against the straw. “G’night.”

“Sleep well,” Lugia said.

He let himself sink into the bed and closed his eyes. But even as the soothing warmth of the flames lulled him into slumber, his thoughts turned to Sora. Perhaps he’d underrated Sora, underrated them both. It wasn’t easy to leave home, he knew, yet they seemed to be faring well.

He recalled the time he had left. He’d known the majority of the world like a map, and yet when he set foot outside his remote island cave, completely alone, he felt like he was lost. All he’d known was that he had to travel far, in search of a name for himself.

Eventually he’d ended up stumbling upon the island that was, unbeknownst to him, Articuno’s territory. Then the Great Hurricane of Modrall happened, and… well, he’d hesitantly chosen his name – Lugia the First of the Surrounded Sea.

His thoughts returned briefly to the sibling fire types. The way Sora spoke of her brother, and how she cared for him… Who knew how much she sacrificed for him, if even she would call it that. It could have been bizarre, but Lugia understood. For much of his life such an attachment had seemed like a wishful fantasy, and even when he’d met Articuno, Lugia expected nothing to come of it.

The memory of the ice bird warmed Lugia more than the fire could. How he longed to be with him again, safe and undisturbed. _Do not worry, Articuno_ , he thought to himself. _I will return to you_.

With a smile, Lugia slept.


	7. Chapter 7

Lugia awoke to the sound of voices and footfalls. He opened his eyes to find the room already bright with midday light, and took a few sniffs as he caught the scent of flowers from outside an open window. His ears twitching at the noise in the neighboring room, he rolled over and glanced at Sora. She was still sleeping.

Most likely not for long, however; Lugia now recognized one of the voices to be Tavi’s. Chansey did say he would be visiting. The other voice was hers, he realized; she was probably arguing against waking them up.

With a yawn, Lugia decided to use the time he had left to test his strength. He stretched his limbs and, to his relief, felt no impairment and only a slight ache. He’d just gotten on all fours when the door opened, and Tavi and the Chansey stepped in.

“Hey, look who’s awake,” the Gurdurr said, smirking triumphantly at the normal type.

But the Chansey didn’t seem to be listening and rushed to Lugia’s side. “Ren!” she said, sounding almost apologetic. “How are you feeling? Any pain or stiffness?”

“I am well, thank you,” he replied.

Scarcely had he finished the sentence before she kept going. “Are you sure? You look a little pale… Hold on, I’ll get you some berries!”

With that the pink Pokémon scuttled out of the room, leaving a somewhat discomfited Lugia with a chuckling Tavi. The Gurdurr sported a few dressed scabs on his neck, but they didn’t seem to bother him. Unlike before, he also carried with him a bag, which gave Lugia some hope regarding the result of the mission.

“Living the good life, huh?” Tavi said, crossing his arms in mock petulance. “I just got a bandage and was told to go.”

By now Sora was stirring, and Lugia decided to get the formalities out of the way. “I apologize for what happened yesterday,” he said, intentionally lowering his gaze. “Not only did we fail to protect you, but then you also had to take responsibility for us. For that I thank you.”

The Gurdurr drew his head back and wrinkled his forehead, and for a moment Lugia feared that he’d once again let himself speak in manner incongruous with that of a child. The fighting type scoffed. “Did they teach you that at your guild? What a smooth talker. Yeah, they should have sent a better team, and I totally saved your skins, but”–he sighed, and his expression softened–“we did get the job done, so…”

Presently, Tavi rubbed the back of his neck, and reached into his bag and retrieved a handful of copper and nickel coins. “Here’s your reward,” the Gurdurr said, and dropped the coins into Lugia’s paws.

Lugia barely caught them all, and couldn’t help but stare in genuine surprise and relief; for a moment he’d assumed the worst. “Thank you,” he said, and shuffled around the coins, heavy and cool like pebbles. Money. He’d heard about it, of course, and knew how it functioned in the economy of mortals, but holding it felt bizarre.

“Mr. Tavi!” a voice exclaimed, and Lugia turned to see that Sora had sat up. He hadn’t been able to see it clearly yesterday but the majority of her upper torso was wrapped in bandages, blotched with red in places where blood had seeped through. Her right cheek was slightly swollen, but it didn’t seem to hinder the smile on her face.

“Hey kid,” the Gurdurr responded with a sympathetic wince.

It was then that the Chansey zoomed back into the room with a food tray. Upon seeing Sora she gasped and hesitated, as if uncertain what to do first. She quickly deposited the food in front of Lugia and rushed towards the Monferno.

Nobody talked much after that, except for the Chansey. Lugia ate and Tavi watched as the pink Pokémon performed a variety of tasks. She changed Sora’s bandages, brought her food, then set to work on clearing their beds once they were well enough to stand.

Lugia waited for these matters to end so that they could get going – the sooner the better, since their return trip would probably be quite lengthy. Tavi seemed itching to leave as well, which he did after having a short private conversation with Sora. Whatever they discussed, it seemed to make her happy.

After the Gurdurr left, they still had to face one final check-up to, in the words of the Chansey, make sure they were fit to go. They were, although Sora was cautioned to take it slow. Then, finally, upon them discovering that they would not have to pay for any of the treatment, they were dismissed.

It felt good to be outside again and feel the breeze in his fur, although it did bring to his attention how matted and dirty it was. But that was secondary. Presently, the two of them plodded through the cobbled streets. Quite surprisingly, several Pokémon they passed stopped what they were doing to give them waves and even cheers. Korrin was a small village, so word would have spread fast, but… was reaching the end of the Salt Flat really such a significant matter for them?

Sora initially seemed flustered, with her tail flame flickering, but soon she took it in stride and responded with her own enthusiastic hollers. Lugia kept to himself until Sora nudged him, and then he made sure to acknowledge others’ gestures with a nod of his head. He didn’t know how to interpret the attention they were receiving, much less whether they deserved it.

It therefore came as a bit of a relief to him when the road ran out of houses to surround itself with, and they were once again out in the open fields. His teammate, too, had a giddy spring in her step, completely disregarding her injured state. So much for taking it slow.

Several minutes later, just as Lugia’s mind had drifted into a pleasant daydream, she finally seemed to be unable to contain her excitement. “That was awesome!” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “All those Pokémon looked so… happy!”

“Well,” Lugia mused, looking up at the clear sky. “They have most likely been living with the mystery, perhaps even the fear, of what the Salt Flat dungeon may contain. Although we were attacked, perhaps they draw some sense of security from the fact that the dungeon was traversed, and is not unknowable.”

“Yeah,” Sora said, her jauntiness fading somewhat as she lowered her gaze. “The place seemed important to them; it must suck to have it suddenly turn into a dungeon… Why does that happen, anyway?”

“Energy fluctuations in the Reverse World barrier,” Lugia answered absently. He was preoccupied with something else, something he hadn’t paid much mind yesterday. Fear of what the Salt Flat may contain, he’d said, but if ferals could attack him and Sora in an area that should have been safe, what stopped them from leaving the dungeon entirely?

“Huh?” Sora said, jarring him from his thoughts. “I don’t get it.”

Sighing, Lugia turned to look at her. He might as well explain it. “I’ve told you that dungeons began spawning once Giratina was sealed away in the Reverse World. This is most likely due to dimensions bleeding through the seal and affecting our own world, which continues to happen, causing new dungeons to form. The spell that was cast was, after all, the first of its kind and not without its flaws.”

“But doesn’t that mean that the thing – the seal – is breaking?” the Monferno asked, shivering. “What if Giratina can get out?”

Lugia shook his head. “The spell may not be perfect, but it accomplishes what it was meant to do – keep Giratina imprisoned. While dimensions may leak through, Giratina herself cannot escape, if she is even still alive.”

“Hmm, well all right, if you say so,” Sora said, rubbing her arm.

He could see she wasn’t convinced, but there wasn’t much more he could say. Truthfully, he was only regurgitating what he’d learned from his parents, who had told him these things since it was his grandfather who’d participated in casting the spell. Lugia hadn’t kept himself too informed over the years, but there was no reason to doubt what they’d told him. If there was some alarming instability in the barrier, he would have surely heard about it.

Ferals roaming outside of dungeon limits was a new development, however. All aspects of mystery dungeons were connected, ultimately leading back to the Reverse World, so Lugia wondered if this had any greater ramifications. Once he returned to his body, he’d have to investigate further. Of course, they still had a ways to go before that happened. In fact, they weren’t any closer to finding the Entercards than they had been at this time yesterday, which was rather disappointing. Hopefully, he could begin his search properly today.

The weather was on their side, warm enough to energize him but with enough of a breeze to cool him off when the walking made him weary. Plus, to his pleasant surprise, neither he nor Sora seemed particularly slowed by their physical condition. The Monferno’s pace was as brisk as ever, and she still had the breath to keep talking to him. She asked him to recount the events that had transpired after she’d fainted, and he obliged. She then asked him what Ursaring were doing in a dungeon like the Salt Flat, so different from the mountainous forests the species usually inhabited, and Lugia was back to having to carefully select his words.

Ultimately, remembering how shaken she had been yesterday, he decided that the full truth was better left for her to learn another time, when she was older. Instead, he only told her that ferals were Pokémon displaced by the same dimensional forces that shaped dungeons. It was enough to sate her curiosity regarding the subject, and the two entered a silence that, surprisingly, endured.

The next time they spoke, it was when they had reached Modrall and Lugia had to alert Sora that she’d missed the left turn to the guild. She’d kept going forward, no doubt out of habit. 

“I am unfamiliar with this guild’s proceedings,” Lugia said as the two of them walked along the rows of flowers. It was the scent of the sea that he focused on instead – he’d missed it. “Are we now to report to Zahir, or are we simply to meet some quota of missions or rewards?”

“I’m pretty sure that for the first mission, we have to see Zahir and tell him about it, and from then on we have to do a number of mission per week,” the Monferno replied whilst looking around at the Pokémon passing by. Here, too, her injuries were attracting the glances of others, and she seemed to enjoy it, wearing her bandages like some sort of achievement. Well, at least it was a positive way of dealing with her wounds.

Lugia acknowledged her answer with a nod. Now that he knew she had been interested in Modrall Guild in the past, it made sense that she was so well informed. She would probably do most of the talking if they did have to speak to Zahir, too. Preemptively, Lugia tried to envision how the conversation would go. Would they be discredited for taking more than one day? From what little Lugia knew of him, Zahir seemed like the type of Pokémon to seek out flaws in others, rather than their accomplishments.

These considerations were cut short when they approached the great hall and Lugia spotted a certain green Pokémon. The Xatu was leaning heavily against the wall, staring at his feet, but when he saw them he quickly straightened himself and fluttered over to them.

“Hey, the legendary children of Modrall!” the psychic type said, greeting them with his beak curved in a grin. “I predicted that you would come here, and it looks like I got here just in time!”

“You have been waiting here for at least an hour,” Lugia said bluntly, noticing the way the Xatu fidgeted and had his weight shifted mostly to his left leg. 

The psychic type recoiled and looked around furtively. “Shh, please, I have a reputation to maintain,” he whispered, shielding them from public view with his wings.

“Hi, Mr. Eutak,” Sora interjected cheerfully.

Lugia pursed his lips, but was curious as to why Eutak would have left the Hill of Beginnings just to speak with them. “What do you want?”

At this, the psychic bird folded his wings at his sides and hesitated. “Ah, yes, well… I think it’s best that I discuss this with Ren privately,” he said.

Now Lugia was even more curious, and he turned to Sora. “If you wouldn’t mind. Perhaps you could meet with the Guildmaster in the meantime?”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” the Monferno protested, crossing her arms with a pout. “Why can’t I hear it?”

“Tell you what,” Eutak said, leaning towards her conspiringly. “Afterwards, I’ll tell you a _different_ secret that Ren _doesn’t_ know.”

Her tail swishing, Sora deliberated this whilst exaggeratedly scratching her chin.

“It’s a good one,” the Xatu crooned.

“All right,” she said after a pause, and with a wave, scampered off into the building.

For a moment they watched her leave. Once she was well out of sight, Eutak beckoned Lugia walk with him, and the two of them made their way back down the road. The Xatu led him to the crossroad with the memorial, and stopped at the less crowded mouth of one of the smaller streets. Lugia waited for Eutak to speak, glancing once at the memorial.

“Glad to see your first mission was a success, and I hope Sora is well,” Eutak said, gazing idly into the sky.

Lugia knew the Xatu had read Sora’s mind, so there wasn’t much point in answering. The only reaction he allowed himself to show was slight disapproval at the possible violation of privacy that the psychic type may have committed. At the same time, the increasing gravity of Eutak’s demeanor was concerning.

“I am… not accustomed to being the bearer of bad news,” Eutak said, turning to Lugia with an air of humility. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I like to use my powers to entertain. All that grander prophesizing was never for me, and to be honest, I thought I’d lose the skill for it eventually. But your plight has been on my mind, and yesterday, I had a vision that I need to share with you.”

Lugia was tempted to consider the moral implications of the Xatu’s perspective, but Eutak’s last sentence had his attention.

The psychic took a deep breath. “I saw Darkrai coming to Modrall, and… he means to kill you.”

A cold gripped Lugia then, and he looked at Eutak, but there was no sign of humor in his expression. “Please, describe what you saw with as much detail and accuracy as possible,” Lugia said, trying to control his breathing. There was, after all, a chance the vision was false, or Eutak’s interpretation erroneous.

Eutak nodded and tensed, as though the experience were painful to recall. “I saw the city on a clear day. Then, from nowhere, clouds formed and shrouded the earth in a shadow that kept getting darker, until everything was black.” The bird swallowed, his voice thin. “When the darkness faded, the city was in ruins. All that was left was Darkrai, floating above… above a dead Lugia.”

There was not much room for invalid interpretation in such a vision. Lugia swallowed hard. “Is that all? Anything particular about the Darkrai or the Lugia?”

The Xatu stared intensely at the ground, his forehead wrinkling. “I’m not sure how, but I had the impression Darkrai was… hollow, somehow. That’s it, though. The vision just faded after that.”

A heaviness was beginning to settle in the Quilava’s chest. There was little reason to doubt what Eutak was telling him, and yet... “Were you awake or asleep when you had your vision?”

“Awake,” the psychic answered.

Then it was unlikely to have been under Darkrai’s influence. But Darkrai’s ability to invade dreams, and Pokémon’s minds through those dreams, remained a serious problem. If Darkrai waded through enough of them, he would eventually discover Lugia’s new identity.

 _But why is he so intent on taking my life?_ Lugia clenched his paws. “Was there any indication as to when Darkrai would arrive?”

Eutak clacked his beak in thought, then lowered his head. “The weather seemed similar to what it’s been recently, but other than that, no, sorry.”

In an effort to keep his composure, Lugia rubbed the fur on his forehead. Until now, although he’d been worried about the possibility of more attacks, he’d been operating under the assumption that he wasn’t under the strict pressure of time. If Darkrai was indeed searching for him, that assumption was wrong.

“What are you going to do?” Eutak asked quietly.

“I must find the Entercards,” Lugia said, taking a resolute step back towards the crossroad, “and use them to reach my body, before Darkrai finds me here.”

“Hold on!” the Xatu exclaimed, hopping in front of him and brushing the tips of his wings together. “I also came here because… I want to help you.”

Lugia froze, then turned around with an inquisitive glance. Why would Eutak want to help?

“I do; I’d like to join you guys,” the Xatu said, flapping his wings once to punctuate his statement. “And I know just how to help! I can search for the Entercards telepathically, and learn how to use them as well!”

“That… would be useful,” Lugia said, cocking his head. All those things, he would have been able to do if he had his psychic powers. But as much as he missed them, he did not have them, so Eutak was right. Even though Lugia hesitated to call him a psychic, given how he squandered his abilities, Lugia couldn’t deny that the Xatu could definitely make the search a lot easier.

“All right!” the bird said, the darkness gone from his features and replaced by the more familiar quirkiness. He held his head high and puffed out his chest. “I’ll have it by tonight, no problem!”

By tonight? That would be quite an impressive display of prowess for a mortal psychic. This thought gave Lugia pause. Was Eutak trying to impress him? Back at the Hill of Beginnings, the Xatu had seemed to be in awe of him, and regarded him almost reverentially. Was that why Eutak volunteered to help him, to gain recognition?

“You may be putting yourself at risk,” Lugia said, somewhat awkwardly. “And I cannot offer you anything in return.”

The bird dismissed him with a smile. “Helping others is its own reward, is it not?”

Lugia didn’t know how to respond to that, and simply stared at him. He’d heard many fables of Legendaries befriending mortals only to be taken advantage of, but he had yet to encounter any indication of such subterfuge. Perhaps the fables were misleading.

“C’mon, we should be going,” Eutak said, jerking his head towards the crossroad.

Nodding, Lugia made to leave, but was once again stopped by the Xatu’s wing.

“You dropped something.” The psychic type pointed at the ground by Lugia’s feet.

Lugia looked down, only to be flicked on the nose by black feathers. Instinctively he flinched and sneezed, then looked up at Eutak incredulously.

“Even Legendaries fall for that, huh?” the Xatu remarked with a mischievous grin. With that, the bird turned around and left briskly, leaving Lugia gaping and feeling rather affronted.

“How impudent,” Lugia muttered to himself, rubbing his nose. This was how Eutak wanted to earn his respect? Tomfoolery? Well then. Stepping out of the alley, Lugia trudged after him. At least the Xatu had taken some of the tension out of the situation, which in hindsight had probably been his intention.

Still, merely thinking about it brought the unease back to Lugia’s stomach. Darkrai was pursuing him with the intent to kill. It seemed absurd. What could have possibly driven Darkrai to such lengths that he would chase Lugia even after Transmigration? Lugia knew Darkrai tended to be bitter Pokémon, given how their natural need for nightmares made peaceful coexistence with others nigh impossible, but this went beyond bitterness. This was premeditated murder, without an apparent motive. What could have turned a Pokémon of a generally cold but reclusive species into an unrelenting killer?

Lugia would rather find out when he was in his rightful body, not as a helpless Quilava. Therefore, as much as he wanted to know why Darkrai was after him, he first had to focus on the present situation. Eutak was going to search for the Entercards, though, so what could he do? Realistically, Lugia would be very inefficient compared to him, so there wasn’t much point in trying to accomplish the same task.

“I’ll meet you here after dinner, then?”

His fur bristling, Lugia snapped to attention. He’d completely missed the fact that he’d reached the main hall’s entrance, and Eutak was standing there. Lugia stopped and nodded.

“Should we tell Sora about this?” the Xatu asked, peering into the hall as if expecting her to show up at any moment.

The mention of the Monferno made Lugia’s shoulders sag. He already regretted involving her in his dangerous quest. The threat of Darkrai was a different magnitude of danger entirely. “No,” he said, following the bird’s line of sight. “As long as I leave here before Darkrai arrives, she will be none the wiser. It would be better that way.”

“Very well,” Eutak said, bowing. He spread his wings. “I’m off to start the search. I have to find a nice, quiet place, you know?”

Lugia shrugged and stepped between the doorway columns. “Whatever works best for you. Good luck.”

He didn’t turn around, but he heard Eutak thank him and take off with a flutter of his wings. Lugia wondered whether the Xatu could truly acquire the information he wanted by dinnertime. It would certainly be a much needed time saver, but the speed of the search would depend on how many Pokémon knew about the Entercards, and of course the Xatu’s proficiency in telepathy.

In any case, Lugia would give Eutak the benefit of the doubt and trust him with the task. Now, though, Lugia had to figure out what to do for the time being. He could not be idle; not after hearing of Eutak’s vision.

The first option that came to mind was to look for Sora. He walked to the hexagonal formation of seats in the center of the hall and looked around. He caught the eye of a Venusaur and a Primeape, and he heard snippets of a conversation from a table with two Magneton about orbs. Sora was nowhere around, which meant that she was most likely still in her meeting with Zahir. That was a meeting Lugia wasn’t too keen on participating in. And on second thought, he wasn’t sure if he was in the right mindset to interact with Sora, either.

Sighing, he turned around and traipsed back to the entrance. He could stay in his room – M7, if he recalled correctly – but there didn’t seem much point to that. What else could he do? Lugia gazed upward at the Nidoking statue. His eyes trailed over the Pokémon lazily, until they reached an inscription on the base. “Durand the Nidoking,” it read. “Founder, Mentor, and Friend. ‘Give light, and the darkness will disappear of itself.’” This didn’t help Lugia any, so he walked on past the statue. Seeing as though he was already wandering aimlessly, he decided to explore the compound, see if it had anything worthwhile to offer. His attention was drawn to a wooden sign pointing out the directions of the male and female dorms, the infirmary, the training grounds, and the library.

The library sounded relatively appealing, and Lugia followed the directions of the guidepost until he found himself in front of one of the side buildings. The “Library” relief on the lintel told him he was at the right place, but just in case he’d missed it, a wooden sign hung above the swing door.

Lugia stood on his hind legs and pushed it open. He found himself in a very tidy foyer, with a very old Heliolisk draped over a chair behind a counter. Thinking the reptile might be asleep, Lugia continued onward with silent footfalls.

“Good day, lad,” said a croaky voice. Lugia turned to see that the Heliolisk had one eye fixed on him. Even when awake, the electric type seemed uncannily still. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Upon glancing past the doorway to the library and seeing the rows upon rows of bookshelves, Lugia decided he would be better off asking instead of perusing on his own. But what could he ask about? He ran his paw against the floor in thought. “Do you have anything on Entercards?”

The Heliolisk made no move, and for a moment Lugia wondered whether he’d even heard him. “Certainly. Aisle seventeen – look for call numbers starting with 626.”

“Thank you,” Lugia said, and walked forth. The opening area comprised several tables, probably for reading, but he ignored them and made his way past the numerically organized shelves until he reached aisle seventeen, which happened to be near another cluster of tables, these occupied by three Pokémon in a rather lively conversation. Lugia paid them no mind and approached the shelves, craning his neck to see the call numbers of the higher books. Eventually he found one titled “Entercards: A Practical Guide” and dragged it off the shelf, taking care to suppress his fires during the effort. Taking a seat at the edge of one of the tables, he read.

Lugia knew that reading was a much inferior method of obtaining knowledge compared to telepathy. Eutak, if successful, could easily learn how to use the cards in the time it would take Lugia to read one page. However, Lugia refused to be inactive. Even if it turned out this was a completely unnecessary endeavor, at least he would have enlightened himself on a subject he knew nothing about.

It was not light reading, and Lugia found it hard to focus with the threat of Darkrai looming over him. Eventually he managed to elude his misgivings and absorb the information to the best of his ability. According to the book, one complete set of four Entercards was needed in order to travel. Modern sets had every possible known pattern inscribed on them, so that all the user had to do was arrange the cards to form the appropriate pattern, transforming the spatial energy of the cards such that it would resonate with the energy of the region’s ley lines. This would spawn a Magnagate, a portal to a mystery dungeon-like dimension that would take the user from point A to point B – those points most often being on opposite sides of some impassable terrain.

Of course, while modern Entercards were more convenient in that the user didn’t have to etch the patterns themselves, there was still a hefty amount of patterns to be formed between the four reversible cards. Lugia spent what felt like an hour trying to memorize the terranean-to-submarine variation, but it wasn’t long before his attention span began to wane, and his attention was increasingly drawn to the neighboring conversation.

“Do you think there’s any pattern?” said a Linoone.

“There’s got to be,” answered a Mienshao. “The victims are scattered over a large region, so whoever’s behind this had to have chosen them specifically.”

“But who could possibly kill all those Legendaries?” asked the soft voice of a Noivern. “Do you think it’s just one Pokémon?”

At this, Lugia’s ears perked up, and he unconsciously set aside the book he was reading. He didn’t want look like he was eavesdropping, so he kept his eyes fixed on it. So, ‘missing’ had indeed been a euphemism? All those disappearances Harlow had listed were in fact murders? Lugia gripped the table. He’d suspected that from the very beginning, yet he’d remained hopeful.

In his peripheral vision, Lugia could see the Mienshao shake her head. “That’s hard to believe. I mean, the targets seem too far apart for one Pokémon to kill in such a short span of time.”

_Not for Darkrai _, Lugia thought. Darkrai’s power to enter nightmares was quite far-reaching. But that this one power, the only skill Darkrai excelled in, could take down the likes of Dialga and Palkia? It was difficult to believe, and the notion that Darkrai had a partner seemed no more believable.__

__“I don’t know,” the Noivern argued. “A large group would have gotten noticed, right? I think it’s got to be a Legendary, like Professor Ahura says.”_ _

__The Mienshao crossed her arms. “Okay, but just one Legendary taking down what, six?”_ _

__“Well, you know what Professor Ahura said about Jirachi, right? And Jirachi’s body was the only one that wasn’t found, so...”_ _

__“Yeah, but she also admitted that Jirachi couldn’t grant wishes of power this strong. So nothing.”_ _

__The Noivern faltered, and looked down at the table._ _

__Lugia took this time to gather his thoughts. He should have been able to make these observations himself, but since he’d always assumed he could leave this kind of analysis to when he was a Lugia again, he’d never made the effort. What he’d heard from these Pokémon made sense, however. Supposing Darkrai was behind everything, it was completely plausible that Darkrai could have attacked Jirachi first and forced him to grant him power. But like the Mienshao was alluding to, Jirachi’s powers were restrained by fixed limits. If Jirachi tried granting a wish that required too many factors to change, he would die trying._ _

__With a shudder, it hit him. Death was not ineludible for certain Legendaries - Legendaries such as Ho-Oh, who was one of the victims._ _

__“Hey pal, it’s rude to stare.”_ _

__Lugia flinched and, having been broken from his trance, found the three Pokémon looking at him. He must have been a lot less subtle than he’d thought. “Ah, I meant no disrespect,” he said, eyeing them all in turn whilst raising his paws. “I merely found your conversation interesting, is all.”_ _

__The Mienshao who had spoken huffed, but the Noivern’s eyes suddenly widened. “Yo, is your name Ren, by any chance?”_ _

__Hesitantly, Lugia nodded._ _

__The Noivern clapped his wing spurs together and grinned, eliciting confused glances from his companions. “I knew it! You’re definitely a guild member, but I’ve never seen you around before, so I figured… Well, uh, anyway, we’re roommates! I’m Aves, nice to meet you.”_ _

__The Noivern extended a wing, and Lugia shook the three maroon claws that constituted the flying type’s hand. Unlike his hardened companions, the Noivern was quite scrawny and his skin and wing membranes were unblemished, suggesting that he was relatively new to the guild. Combined with his youth, it made sense that they would be assigned to the same room._ _

__Regardless, Lugia wasn’t currently interested in idle chatter; he’d been given a lot to think about. “Likewise,” he said politely, closing the Entercard guide and holding it between his paws. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation; I shall be going now.”_ _

__The Noivern raised a wing as if to protest, then lowered it. Lugia ignored it with only mild regret and waddled awkwardly to the return shelf, where he dropped off his book. He was simply too preoccupied to socialize. If the information he’d overheard was factual, it meant that Darkrai’s actions were not random, they were not mere acts of rage or bitterness. No, using Ho-Oh’s feathers to enable and force Jirachi to grant more potent wishes bespoke of a plot that was much grander and more sinister than Lugia had originally suspected. It revealed the greater passion of the murders, but it only made the question of motive more pertinent. From what Lugia knew of the species, Darkrai were not known for their conniving schemes, nor a particular thirst for violence. Yes, they tended to be bitter because they were shunned, but was that enough to warrant this level of retribution?_ _

__And the victims… Jirachi, Ho-Oh, Dialga, Palkia, Cresselia, Celebi, and of course, himself. Cresselia was an obvious one, as the species tended to be the chief proponents of ostracizing Darkrai. Their powers were polar opposites, after all, and Cresselia had the fortune of being the one whose nature allowed for peaceful coexistence. But the rest of the targets? With such elaborate preparations, Darkrai must have had a reason for each one._ _

__Moreover, Lugia had to wonder – even after returning to his normal self, would he be safe? The thought made him shiver, and he tried to focus on the positive. He wasn’t certain, but… the absence of further deaths these past few days seemed to indicate that perhaps Darkrai’s list of targets was not indefinite. Additionally, all the victims seemed to share psychic or dimensional proficiency, and if that meant anything good, it was that Articuno was most likely not on that list._ _

__Lugia stepped out of the library, hoping to find comfort in the sunlight, but the sky was overcast. He wouldn’t deny that he was afraid and at a loss, but he remembered that a few days ago, he’d had a letter sent to Articuno. If Lugia didn’t manage on his own, Articuno would surely arrive any day now and be able to help. Assuming he was still alive – Lugia did not dare to question that._ _

__He took a deep breath. His nostrils flared – the air was sweet and humid, which, taken in consideration with the tall, anvil-shaped clouds overhead, meant a storm was likely approaching. A part of him longed for it, but very soon he realized that his current body did not share his affinity for rain. The red patches on his head and back sizzled, and he felt the same kind of faintness he’d felt after his battle with Kyriak. This time, Lugia willed his flames ablaze, and though it took some effort, it made him feel better._ _

__Nonetheless, he didn’t want to stick around outside, so he made his way to the main hall. Perhaps Sora was done by now, too – as much he hoped nothing further was required of them, they did have obligations to the guild while they were members._ _

__Just as he entered the hall, the shrill call of a horn cut through the air. Lugia ducked reflexively and covered his ears, but in a few seconds it was over. When he regained his composure, Sora was in front of him._ _

__“Hey,” she said. Something was wrong; her eyes were wide, and her voice was breathless._ _

__Before he could ask what was wrong, his attention was drawn to the increasing clamor of the room as more Pokémon filtered into the room from all entrances. The influx seemed endless, and Lugia found himself having to scoot closer and closer to Sora to make room. Finally, when the room was so crowded that Lugia could feel the breath of the Exploud behind him and the tail of the Lairon in front of him threatened to poke him in the face, the room went still, with everyone watching the hallway to Zahir’s chamber expectantly. Thunder rumbled quietly in the distance outside, and the air was thick._ _

__At last, Zahir stepped into the small area that was left clear for him. Lugia had never seen him standing. The Scizor carried himself upright, and seemed to have a way of looking down on everyone in spite of being far from the tallest Pokémon in the room. Yet the slight limpness of his wings betrayed his posture, and Lugia knew then that they had not been summoned for good news._ _

__“Good afternoon, guild members,” the steel type said, his voice less grating than Lugia remembered it. His gaze swept across the room. “There is no way to bring this news to you lightly – another Legendary has been killed.”_ _

__A flash of lightning, then the whip of a thunderclap. Lugia held his breath._ _

__“It is Arceus. Arceus is dead.”_ _


	8. Chapter 8

“I understand this will come as a shock to many of you,” Zahir said.

The patter of rain filled the gaps between his words. Lugia thought he would feel relief upon the reveal of the latest victim, but he remained breathless.

“Arceus is a Legendary so rare, he has found a place in many myths, many religions. As such, you may have had various beliefs of him.” The Scizor raised his head. “You must now set those beliefs aside. The facts are these – late last night, Arceus’ corpse was found at the foot of Mount Aurora, riddled with lacerations and energy burns. Cause of death was loss of blood.”

In his mind Lugia saw Darkrai tearing into Arceus’ flesh with claws of shadow. The image recalled his own memory of Articuno’s mauled corpse in the dream world, and he tensed his body in an attempt to control his fires. Against an empowered Darkrai, Arceus never stood a chance. But why Arceus? He never involved himself with anyone, Legendary or mortal, except in the rare event that the world was under dire threat. Lugia had come to respect that about him, so to hear that he was murdered… it was vile, it was abhorrent.

“A much greater level of violence was shown here, but we nonetheless believe that this case is related to the other Legendary killings. Unfortunately, there were no witnesses to the murder, and the perpetrator remains unknown.”

The crowd shifted in unrest, and a few mutters surfaced above the sound of the rain. The movement carried with it a contagious air of frustration, and now more than ever before, Lugia found himself burning with the desire to see Darkrai apprehended, to see him punished for his crimes. Lugia’s limbs twitched, as though even now seeking to strike the dark type. He could, he realized, tell Zahir about Darkrai, to sooner begin the hunt. But the idea fizzled out quickly along with the flames on Lugia’s back, and he let out a shaky sigh – that would involve Zahir discovering Lugia’s identity, which could further delay their search for the Entercards. Moreover, it was doubtful that mortals would be able to do anything; it would be safer to wait until Lugia was himself and could enlist the help of other Legendaries.

“The bad news does not end there,” Zahir said. His pacing was heavier now, as if he too were incited by the turbulence of the crowd. “There has been an abrupt increase in reports of ferals acting outside of dungeon limits, a trend that puts countless settlements at risk. As such, we will need teams and researchers to provide assistance and investigate – I shall assign these tomorrow.”

Flattening his ears, Lugia winced at the rising noise. Another flash, another thunderclap, but these sounds that he normally found pleasant only served to aggravate the already restless crowd. It was all Lugia could do to resist the excitation that charged the room, and he could only just focus enough to wonder if this announcement had spawned from Sora telling Zahir of the Ursaring.

“Whether these events are related is uncertain, but rest assured that we will get to the bottom of both. In the meantime, be cautious in areas around dungeons; they may no longer be safe.” The Scizor stopped and bowed his head. “That is all.”

Zahir vanished into the hallway to his chamber, and the crowd was set into motion, trickling out through the exit. Jostled by departing Pokémon, Lugia gnashed his teeth in irritation, and for a moment he considered letting himself be swept away with the throng. But then he saw Sora, who had somehow managed to stay rooted in place. Her abnormally downtrodden expression gave him the impression she had something to say, probably regarding her conversation with Zahir, so he planted his paws firmly against the floor and endured.

Eventually, the hall cleared, and a gust of humid air eddied about the room, rustling the loose corners of the mission papers on the walls like the leaves of a tree. Lugia stood still for a moment, letting the breeze wash over him and the silence soothe his ringing ears. A few Pokémon still remained near the tables, but they could only be heard as unintelligible whispers.

Sora drifted over to the wall left of the entrance, and Lugia followed her. 

“So, Arceus is really gone?” she whispered, gazing out into the downpour.

Lugia trailed her line of sight. Rain cascaded over the doorway, a silvery veil over the dark outside. “Yes,” he said, without conviction. He lowered his head. Perhaps, on some level, he too was hoping that Arceus had found a way to cheat death.

Sora dragged her tail across the floor. “Did you… did you know him at all?”

“No.” Another flash illuminated the hall, and Lugia shivered. Somehow, even though he didn’t know Arceus better than any of the other victims, his death meant more to him.

Was it really surprising? As reclusive as he was, Arceus was the bringer of life on this world, and as such was seen as the symbol of all the good in it. With a smile, Lugia remembered the day he’d left his parents, and how, in his confusion and misery, he’d tried reaching out to Arceus. Of course, he hadn’t been expecting a response, and there was none, but the idea that there was someone out there who could hear him… it had been comforting.

A crash of thunder wiped the smile off his face, and Lugia remembered what he’d wanted to ask. He turned back to Sora, who had put an arm around him. “Is there anything Zahir told you that I should be aware of?”

The Monferno withdrew her arm and wrung her wrists. “Um, well, he was a bit mad about how we put Tavi in danger. And he said the mission was ranked C, and that if we have this much trouble with another mission this week, he’ll lower our rank.”

Lugia sighed whilst watching the fluttering mission papers on the wall idly. It was obvious that this news greatly discouraged her, but in his current unease, it was difficult to empathize. “I am sorry to hear that. However, it is possible that I may be leaving sooner than anticipated.”

Wiping her nose with her arm, Sora faced him inquisitively.

“Eutak volunteered to search for the Entercards telepathically. If all goes well, he’ll have ascertained their location by tonight.”

Lugia did not expect this news to lighten her mood, and indeed Sora responded by sagging her shoulders and drawing shapes on the floor with slow movements of her feet. It wouldn’t cheer her up, either, but upon mentioning the Entercards, he realized that now was a good time to discuss what was ahead of them. “If we can get the cards, we’ll have to go to the shore to use them. From there, we can create a dungeon that leads us to the seafloor.”

Sora’s tail swished at that. “Sounds dangerous,” she said, some of her usual character returning to her voice.

Lugia frowned, not quite sure why this would inspirit her so. “It is. Not only may one run into fierce ferals, but the dungeon itself is unsustainable for long periods of time. Two hours is the recommended limit, two and a half at most.”

His own words gave him pause. When he’d been reading about this at the library, he hadn’t attempted to think of how the information would apply to them. But now he began to question, how would he and Sora traverse an aquatic dungeon? If the mere humidity in the hall was starting to feel oppressive, his chances in a submarine environment were rather grim. But what alternative did they have? 

Perhaps Eutak could offer some help. In fact, if the dungeon was spacious enough to permit flight and the Xatu could carry him, the entire matter could be greatly simplified. But the bird could most likely carry only one Pokémon, if even that, which meant that Sora would have to stay behind. Somehow, Lugia doubted she would find that agreeable. He observed the Monferno as she gazed into the distance, her eyes gradually widening with excitement. No doubt she was already picturing the venture.

“Okay, two hours,” she said suddenly, her tail flame back to full strength. “But where do we even start looking? Do you know where your body is, exactly?”

Another point Lugia hadn’t thought of. Clearly he’d neglected to plan for after they found the Entercards. “Er, I have some approximation,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Provided our general direction is true, we should be all right.”

Adjusting the strap of her bag, Sora paced back and forth, becoming more animated with each iteration. Lugia could understand why she would be excited; she’d probably never been in an underwater dungeon before. They were indeed remarkable – to him, beautiful. However, this was one undertaking that he might have to deny her. If Eutak was capable of carrying him, there was no reason to expose her to such a dangerous place. She’d been through enough already.

Pondering over these proceedings, his thoughts turned to what would happen once he did find his body. Would he be able to Transmigrate back into it? He’d assumed he could, but the alternative filled him with a cold dread. Tensing his forelimbs, he forced optimism upon himself. Yes, he currently had no access to any psychic powers, but perhaps proximity to his body would change that. And once he Transmigrated, Eutak, if cooperative, could return Ren to Sora, and this entire ordeal would be over. 

The thought made him stop mid-breath. It was almost difficult to believe that, if fortune was on his side, the end of his Quilava days was so near.

“Hey, I’ve been wondering,” the Monferno said, her head angled upwards pensively. “If we need all this stuff to get under the sea, how did, um… Darkrai, right? How did Darkrai get there?”

The mention of the dark type made Lugia’s paws clench, and for a moment he glared spitefully towards the sky before deciding to tackle Sora’s most recent question. This one, too, caught him off guard. It was true that Darkrai could not have possibly phased that far underwater; he still needed to breathe. But Lugia remembered it vividly – how he’d awoken from that terrible nightmare, how Darkrai had materialized in the water and struck him down. The fear Lugia had felt chilled him even now, and he gently stoked his fires.

Still, during the swift defeat that Darkrai delivered him, Lugia did remember something odd. Darkrai’s voice had sounded disembodied, and his form had seemed too sharp, as though it were superimposed over the water rather than existing in it. Could Darkrai have pulled off a nested dream and just been Dream Eating the whole time? Lugia’s memories seemed so real, and vainly he told himself that he would have known if he were still dreaming, but there was no other explanation. With his augmented powers, Darkrai could have done it. 

“Darkrai does not need to be near you to kill you,” Lugia answered, apprehensively watching the chandelier as one of its orbs flickered, clinging on to life. “When you are asleep, Darkrai can enter your dreams, even from afar. Once there, he can manipulate them so as to inflict as much suffering as possible. He feeds on this fear, in fact it is as necessary for his survival as food is for you and me.”

“And that – that can kill?” Sora said, her tail wrapping itself around her leg.

Lugia nodded, and she jumped.

“But then, couldn’t he just attack any night?” The Monferno took several hasty steps in the direction of the entrance, and looked at the gloomy sky. As if it itself were going to attack her, she scrambled back to his side.

“There are still distance limits,” Lugia explained, raising a paw to pacify her. “More importantly, Darkrai doesn’t know where or who I am at the moment, so he has no target. I doubt he’d attempt simply brute forcing through all nearby nightmares.”

The guttural roll of thunder continued outside, and Sora withdrew into her imagination, leaving Lugia to himself. He looked out once more into the rain and the clouds that completely obscured the sun. It made him think of Eutak’s vision, and he drew his body in close to the floor. What was Darkrai’s next move; who would he next kill? More importantly, how could he be stopped? His greatest strengths relied on his victims being asleep, which was why Darkrai was considered a weak fighter, but… how strong was he now, with his enhanced powers?

These thoughts made his heart race, and to distract himself he diverted his attention back to the wavering light of the room. It was of no use to dwell on Darkrai now. But what was there to do while he waited for dinner? Now, more than ever, being idle physically discomforted him. What could Darkrai be doing with all this time?

Lugia’s ears perked up at the sound of wingbeats, and he turned to see Eutak standing at the entrance, his feathers slicked down and dripping water onto the floor. Anxiously awaiting any news, Lugia trotted up to him, only to recoil when the Xatu shook himself dry and sprayed him with rainwater. Giggling, Sora bounded towards them while Lugia grumbled and wiped the droplets from his fur.

“Whoops,” Eutak said, his grin betraying his mirth.

“Have you heard about Arceus?” Lugia demanded, put off by the psychic’s inappropriate demeanor.

“Yes, it’s quite shocking.” The Xatu bowed his head sorrowfully, only to snap it back up and flash a smile. “But I did manage to find out a lot about the Entercards!”

“Oh?” Lugia said. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought Eutak would make it by dinner, let alone earlier.

Somewhat to Lugia’s vexation, Eutak puffed up his chest proudly. “That’s right! It wasn’t too difficult. I’ve learned how to use them, and I can tell you that they’re kept in Zahir’s chamber.”

“Cool! So all we have to do is just ask!” Sora said, already directing her feet towards the guildmaster’s office.

“Ah, yes, ahem.” Eutak’s self-satisfied posture crumbled into a slouch.

The cause for this hesitation wasn’t too difficult for Lugia to deduce, and he narrowed his eyes at the psychic. “He won’t give them to us, will he?”

“Entercards can only be used by teams ranked B+ or above,” the Xatu said, folding his wings and drawing his head in, as if to hide behind them. “No exceptions.”

For a moment Lugia wanted to berate him for not leading with that, or question whether he’d searched well enough, but once the answer sunk in, Lugia could feel nothing. He stared blankly into the dim corner at the other side of the hall, replaying the events that had transpired since they’d joined the guild. Had all that time been for naught?

“Maybe we can ask a high ranked team for help?” Sora asked, her tone fragilely hopeful.

Eutak shook his head slowly. “I doubt these are rules anyone would break for you. The head honchos take this really seriously; the punishment’s getting thrown out and blacklisted.”

Sighing, Lugia rubbed his temples. So, the guild was indeed a dead end. Unless… he pressed his lips together in thought. He could tell Zahir who he was, and hope that the truth would incite him to make an exception.

“Fret not,” Eutak said, and with yet another dramatic shift in mood, thrust his wings open, spreading them to their greatest span. “I wouldn’t have come here without a solution! I gather – from your very enthralling mind, Sora – that you two are ranked C+ and B-?”

“Hey,” Sora protested, crossing her arms. “Stop reading my mind!”

Lugia would have agreed with her, but he was too curious as to whether Eutak was on to something.

“That means all I have to do is take the test to join your team and get an S!”

Both Lugia and Sora gaped at him in silence, while the bird glanced between the two of them cheerfully. After a few seconds, his smile fell, and his wings drooped.

“What, you don’t think I can do it?”

“Um, isn’t S for like, the best of the best?” Sora said, scratching the back of her neck. “I mean, I’m sure you’re strong, Mr. Eutak, but…”

“You cannot possibly succeed,” Lugia finished. He wasn’t saying that to be hurtful, either – it was bold of the Xatu to suggest such an idea in the face of the impasse they might soon run into, but even though he had surprised with his psychic abilities, what he was now proposing was utterly unfeasible.

The Xatu stomped his foot. “You must think I’m just some weird little bird! But I’ll show you how tough I am.”

Lugia watched him dubiously, but the psychic held his ground. “Very well,” he said, holding his paw to his forehead. “We don’t have much else to try.” At this, Eutak’s face brightened, and Lugia frowned. Determination was one thing, but foolhardiness was another.

Nevertheless, as the three of them reached an agreement and headed towards Zahir’s chamber, Lugia observed the Xatu with a sliver of guarded hope. Eutak certainly didn’t come across as being a fearsome fighter, with his blithe attitude and lanky frame – in fact, Lugia could hardly imagine him in battle at all; it didn’t seem compatible with his character. Still, perhaps Eutak could manage to impress with his psychic powers yet again. It would certainly be preferable to Lugia than trying to explain everything to Zahir and hope that he would cooperate. After all, Harlow had seemed quite adamant when she’d warned Lugia to keep his identity secret.

Once they entered Zahir’s chamber, the sight of the Scizor made Lugia stand to attention and set all those thoughts aside.

“Please make this quick,” the steel type said. His head was low, as though he did not have the energy to support it, and his features were soft. Lugia felt none of the air of superiority Zahir had had before, and for the first time he considered feeling sympathy for the guildmaster. Recent events must have impacted him, too.

Sora opened her mouth to speak, but somewhat impressively, Eutak got there first. “I would like to join Team Soren,” he said, glancing about the room happily.

Zahir leaned forward slightly. “Do you two agree to this?”

Lugia nodded, and as did Sora.

“Very well.” The Scizor reached into the chest behind him and produced what must have been some kind of roster of their team. His gaze shifted from the paper to the Xatu, and he narrowed his eyes. “You are Eutak, are you not? The, ah, _psychic_ from the Hill of Beginnings?”

“That’s me,” the bird chirped.

“Why would you want to join an exploration team? Theirs specifically?”

Lugia turned to Eutak worriedly. He wouldn’t say too much, would he?

“These two munchkins have shown me that I could use my powers for a lot more than just forecasting the weather and telling mons whether they’ll have a good week or not.” Eutak gave Lugia a glance and drew his shoulders back a little farther. “I want to help others as best as I can!”

Zahir dismissed the response with a slight wave of his pincer. “What is your experience in dungeon exploration and battling?”

“Er, well, I…” The Xatu shuffled in place. “I kind of live on top of a dungeon, so there’s that…”

“No experience, then,” Zahir said, unblinking.

Eutak fidgeted, and Lugia had the urge to cover his face with his paw.

Much to his surprise, however, Zahir sighed, a sign of weakness of which Lugia hadn’t thought the guildmaster was capable. “Very well,” he said, leaning back into his chair. “I will have you tested in an item-assisted sparring session. Go to the training grounds, room seven.”

“Thank you,” Eutak said, the tips of his wings trembling. 

Zahir barely acknowledged him, leafing through other papers on his desk. “You may go.”

Lugia lingered for a moment, but Eutak and Sora had rushed out of the room, and he was forced to follow. By the time he’d left the chamber, the two of them were already by the entrance. Lugia ran after them and hesitated at the doorway, but one look outside told him that the rain had waned into a drizzle, and so he kept going. Mud stuck to the pads of his paws and he almost slipped in several places, but he dared not slow down under the cool sting of the rainwater.

At last he caught up to his companions at the entry to the training grounds. The scent of sweat greeted them immediately, and Lugia, shaking the water from his coat, thought back to his battle with Kyriak. The Sawk at the front desk interrupted these recollections and pointed them in the direction of room seven, although the poor lighting made it rather difficult to see where he was pointing to. Fortunately, Sora set her tail flame ablaze, and they read the numbered signs under the firelight.

They stopped at door seven, and Eutak turned to the two fire types and preened a few stray feathers on his front.

“Are you nervous, Mr. Eutak?” Sora asked, giving the bird a sympathetic pat.

“Me? Nah,” the Xatu replied, his breaths short. He let out a chuckle. “The only thing I’m worried about is the team name! I mean, we’ll have to update it. How about… Team Sorentak?”

Sora giggled, and Eutak’s rather set expression lightened with a small smile. He turned to Lugia.

“Good luck,” Lugia said, fixing him with a stare. He could see the bird was taking this seriously now, in spite of the wisecrack.

Eutak nodded, and with a final glance at both of them, he pecked the door twice. The door shot open so quickly that he didn’t have the time to withdraw his head, and he found himself face to face with a Weavile.

“Come in,” the dark type said silkily.

Shuddering visibly, Eutak gave Lugia one last half-hearted wave of his wing before entering. The door closed.

“I wish we could watch,” Sora said quietly, gazing into the mahogany wood.

Lugia lumbered over to the opposite wall and sat on his haunches. As much as he wished Eutak success, he wasn’t certain what anyone expected of this. The Xatu had just admitted that he had next to no experience in exploring or combat, so how could he get an S?

The Monferno, upon obtaining no response, sat next to him. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

In the dim light of the room, Lugia glared at door. It was a controlled battle; Eutak wasn’t in any real danger. Yet, Lugia found himself wanting to further consider Sora’s question, if only for himself. He knew there was next to no chance of the Xatu succeeding, but the presence of the possibility, no matter how remote, was maddening. And once again, there was the fact that, for reasons still not entirely clear to Lugia, Eutak had voluntarily put himself in this position. Was he still seeking Lugia’s respect, validation? Was this a good motive to have?

The two of them waited, and Lugia began to take hold of reason. In the likely event that Eutak did not get an S, what could be done? Leaving the guild and searching for Entercards seemed like a tremendous setback, and a waste of their time thus far. No, surely there had to be another way from within the guild. At the very least, Lugia would try talking to Zahir first – after all, whatever it was that Harlow was concerned about could not be worse than having to restart their search essentially from scratch.

Another thought came to him then, a thought so unexpected that he drew back his head. If all else failed, they could also steal them; steal the Entercards.

A shrill squawk cut through the air and echoed down the corridor. Sora flinched and shook him. “Did you hear that? That was Mr. Eutak, wasn’t it?”

Keeping his eyes on the door, Lugia patted the Monferno’s arm. “He will be fine, don’t worry,” he said, though he had a feeling they would see for themselves soon.

Sure enough, in about a minute, the door creaked open, and out scuffed Eutak in miniature paces. His feathers were disheveled and frosted over, so much so that it obscured the color underneath and made him scarcely recognizable.

“Mr. Eutak!” Sora exclaimed, dashing over to him. Immediately, she clapped her hands together to warm them, and set to work on rubbing the bird’s feathers.

The only response the Xatu gave was the chattering of his beak. Hunched over with his wings wrapped around himself, he leaned wholly into Sora’s ministrations.

Just by watching him, Lugia shivered, and he was tempted to ignite his flames. But he breathed a little easier upon examining the psychic and finding no other injuries. It was just the ice. Presently, Lugia walked over to them and watched silently as Sora accelerated the thawing process, and the Xatu’s feathers became soppy and dripping once more.

Gradually, Eutak’s chattering ceased, and the color returned to his features, and at last he gestured for Sora to stop with quivering wing. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low.

“Are you okay?” she asked, staying by the Xatu’s side.

“I’m f-fine.” He remained cocooned in his own wings, his eyes downcast. “Just a bit cold.”

Lugia couldn’t help but notice that Eutak’s condition did not look like that of one who’d gotten an S. This was unsurprising, but he didn’t find it within himself to bring that up now. “Do you need to visit the infirmary?”

“No,” the Xatu said, rather brusquely. Deliberately avoiding Lugia’s gaze, he hung his head. “No… let’s just go wait in the m-main hall.”

With that he lurched forward, swaying precariously. Sora rushed forward to support him if needed, but Eutak managed to steady himself.

Lugia trailed them and tried to think of something to say. To say that this was expected seemed inappropriate now, even though it was true. The odds had been against Eutak from the beginning, but the Xatu did not look like he’d accepted that.

The three Pokémon walked back in silence. The rain had stopped completely, but the clouds still clung to the earth, blotting out the sun. Only near the horizon did golden crepuscular rays bleed through the mist, signaling the conclusion of the day. It was probably for this reason that most of the tables in the main hall were unoccupied, and they sat around the one closest to Zahir’s chamber. 

Eutak dangled his talons in the air and stared at them despondently. At least he was no longer shivering.

“I’m sure you did great, Mr. Eutak,” Sora said, drumming the table with her palms. “Don’t worry about it!”

The Xatu closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t get an S,” he said, kicking the leg of his chair. “Sorry.”

Eutak still didn’t face Lugia, but the Monferno did with a glare. It was obvious she wanted him to speak, but what could he say? “Ah, think nothing of it,” he said, stretching the words to buy himself time to think ahead. “We’ll find another way to obtain the Entercards.”

The Monferno gave him a dissatisfied frown, leaving Lugia quite confused, but she didn’t say anything as Eutak perked up. Finally, the Xatu turned to Lugia, and as though a fire had been lit within him, the psychic was lively again. “But that Weavile did say I was clever, and that my psychic powers were great! ‘They’ll be really useful,’ she said.” 

“That’s good,” Lugia said tepidly. That meant that Eutak would most likely be officially joining their team. For the short time they were still a team, anyway.

Sora rested her head on her hands and leaned towards the Xatu. “That’s _awesome_! Must’ve been scary – that was your first battle, wasn’t it?”

“Eh, it wasn’t too bad,” the bird said, reclining in the chair casually now. “But man, that Weavile was rough! She kept trying to hit me. So I kept teleporting away, but–”

“Whoa, you can teleport?”

“Heh, yeah! But it only works short distance and it’s really tiring… so pretty soon she got me with some ice attack.”

Lugia listened with mild interest, but as he watched the sky through the doorway descend further and further into the black of night, his thoughts turned with increasing urgency to what he would do now. The Entercards were right there, in the northern room, just out of reach. Using conventional methods, that is. What would he rather do, attempt to steal them or reveal his plight to Zahir?

There didn’t seem to be much of a choice, now that he thought about it. Stealing was simply too risky, and his teammates would probably be punished in his stead. It would be cruel of him to take that alternative over one he could undertake on his own.

There were risks involved in telling Zahir everything, too, the most prominent being Harlow’s warning. The warning remained mysterious, but now that Lugia’s options were limited, perhaps it was time for him to devote his faculties to the issue. How would Zahir react to the truth? Disbelief could hopefully be dispelled by Eutak, whose testimony had swayed Harlow – what else was there to worry about?

It was then that Lugia remembered the advantages of telepathy. “Eutak, could I ask you a favor?”

“Hmm?” The Xatu sat upright. “Of course, anything! What is it?”

Lugia opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated upon seeing Sora listening in. “It seems to me that the only remaining possibility of obtaining Entercards at this guild is if I were to tell Zahir who I am.”

“What?” Sora exclaimed, involuntarily pounding the table. “But didn’t Ms. Harlow say not to do that?”

“She did, but we are out of options.” Lugia turned his attention back to Eutak, who was perched on the edge of his seat attentively. “That being said, I am somewhat concerned about what Zahir’s reaction may be, which is why it might be best if you read his mind and discovered what he knows of my kind.”

“Oh.” The Xatu averted his eyes and fluttered his wings. “I could do that for you, but, ah, not today – I’m spent. Sorry.”

Lugia nodded his head. It wasn’t surprising; Eutak had probably exerted himself more in the last few hours than he had in years. “How about tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow! I’ll get it done for you, no problem.”

“Hold on,” Sora interjected, crossing her arms. “Isn’t this wrong? I mean, it’s the guildmaster…”

Lugia and Eutak shared a glance. The ethics of telepathy were certainly a rocky area – in fact, Eutak’s flagrant use of it was what had marred Lugia’s impression of him. Indeed, unsolicited telepathy was frowned upon, and, amongst Legendaries, could lead to confrontation. But there was no other choice now.

“I won’t be looking at anything personal, don’t worry,” Eutak said. “We just need this one piece of info.”

“You three.”

Lugia’s fur bristled and he turned around just to catch a glimpse of Zahir’s back as he retreated into his chamber. Eutak and Sora exchanged nervous looks, but then the Xatu hopped forward and beckoned them to come. For a moment Lugia wondered whether the Scizor had heard them, but that was absurd. Still, he held his breath as they entered the guildmaster’s chamber.

The instant the door closed behind them, Zahir waved the paper he held in his pincer at them. “C+,” he said, releasing the paper and letting it slide across his desk. “I am told you lack basic exploration and battle training.”

Eutak shrank back, and Lugia eyed him. C+? Even he had expected better than that.

“However, your psychic powers would be a valuable asset to any exploration team, which is why, under the condition that you undergo tutoring within your first week, I am considering you eligible.”

The Xatu said nothing, but the quivering of his wings gave away his excitement.

Zahir fixed him with a glare, but it wasn’t as commanding as Lugia remembered it. “You are joining a faltering team, Eutak – you have your work cut out for you. Sign this.”

The psychic was presented the same form Lugia and Sora had signed, with an additional piece of foil on top. Sora watched with a loose jaw as the Xatu, incapable of using a quill, pecked a pattern into the foil. Lugia couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction – how fortunate were those with hands!

Once Eutak was finished, Zahir retrieved the paper and deposited it in the chest behind him, from which he also withdrew a bag identical to Lugia’s. “Eutak, you are accepted; Team Soren, your rank remains C+. Here is your bag, which you must use as a representative of Modrall Guild. Inside it you’ll find your badge, a map, and the rulebook.”

_Thus another member joins the ephemeral Team Soren_ , Lugia thought as Eutak used his beak yet again to grab the bag by its strap and sling it over his shoulder.

“Your room number is M11,” Zahir said. “Dismissed.”

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Eutak said, his voice airy as he cradled his new bag with his wing.

Lugia rolled his eyes; here was an adult Xatu acting all but identically to the way a child Monferno had. Except, for Sora, exploring was a dream, and she and her brother had been pressured to join Modrall Guild for much of their childhood. What motivations did Eutak have for him to be so happy now, especially since they most likely wouldn’t be a team for very long? Was it really just the association with Lugia that made him happy, as short-lived as it would be?

As the three of them said goodbye to Zahir, Lugia, for the first time since meeting Eutak, evaluated this admiration. It was odd, since Lugia didn’t see much about himself that warranted veneration, but he couldn’t deny that it flattered him. After all, if Lugia as a species were known for anything, it was usually their capacity to cause storms, so it was comforting to know that there were more positive things to his name.

Thus, he decided to keep silent while Eutak and Sora celebrated the Xatu’s admission between themselves. How would they fare once he left, he wondered? Sora said she would return to the Guild for the Young and Challenged – would Eutak follow her there?

These thoughts were cut short when another bell rang throughout the hall, this one a sweet chime. Immediately Sora’s tail began swishing, and with haste she shepherded them through a door at the side. They emerged in a long room outlined by counters laden with an assortment of fruits, berries, and vegetables. Spurred by his empty stomach, Lugia grabbed as many as he could and sat himself down at one of the many tables in the room’s center. It wasn’t long before the room filled up with hordes of Pokémon, and soon a Medicham, Greninja, and Ampharos had no place to sit but with the three members of Team Soren. Lugia wasn’t too thrilled by these new arrivals and kept to himself, whereas Sora and Eutak were eager to socialize, involving themselves in a heated discussion about seeds and orbs and which were better. Good for them; they might as well enjoy their time at the guild while it lasted.

It was hard to think over the din and the frequent static shock from the neighboring Ampharos, but Lugia tried anyway to prepare himself for tomorrow. There wasn’t much to prepare for, though; the course of action he would need to take was dependent on events yet to unfold – namely, Eutak reading Zahir’s mind. All Lugia could do was hope that the Scizor had no prejudice against him, and that they could use the Entercards without obstruction. If that wasn’t the case, then… Lugia wasn’t sure what he’d do. Eutak hadn’t specified how long it would be before Darkrai arrived in Modrall Town, but it couldn’t be too long. Lugia dreaded to think what would happen if he hadn’t left by then. With the dark type’s enhanced abilities, it would only be a matter of time before he found him, through dreams or otherwise.

Presently, the room burst into applause and laughter, and Lugia jumped to see that a Quagsire from the adjacent table had fallen off his seat. Scowling, Lugia clamped his paws over his ears. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

“I shall be going to sleep now,” he said, his voice edged with a growl.

“Aw, already?” Eutak slurred. He didn’t look entirely lucid with the silly grin plastered on his face, but that was to be expected with the amount of Magost Berries he’d eaten.

Sparing him no response, Lugia turned to Sora. “We’ll meet here tomorrow, yes?”

“Sure,” the Monferno said, biting into an alarmingly oversized pear. “G’night!”

Lugia nodded, and slid off his chair. Frankly, he just wanted to get out of this place and fine someplace silent.

“Sweet dreams,” the Ampharos hollered after him.

This stopped Lugia in his tracks for a moment, but before long the ringing in his ears set him in motion again, and hastily he left the dining room and headed towards the dorms.


	9. Chapter 9

When Lugia became aware of the snoring, he knew it was over. Grumbling internally, he burrowed his head into the straw and bunched some of it over his scalp. The bed was warm and cozy and his eyes were still glued shut, but the snoring drilled into his ears with such persistence that any comfort at all was out of the question.

Sighing, Lugia rubbed his eyes and opened them. The room was blurry at first, lit only with the pale onset of twilight. Too early. With a yawn, Lugia shifted so that he faced away from the corner, and, resting his head on his paws, observed his roommates idly. 

In the opposite corner, Aves hung from a bar near the ceiling, his wings and tail wrapped around himself. His large ears dangled just above the floor, and Lugia wondered how on earth the Noivern wasn’t stirred. He turned left to Kyriak and narrowed his eyes – the Croconaw was sprawled out on his back, and with each rise and fall of his chest came a monumental grating like the screech of an Onix. Finally, in the remaining corner slept a Seviper whose name Lugia struggled to remember.

They were all still sleeping, and Lugia felt his fires spark. How could they sleep through this noise? Sitting up, Lugia’s gaze gravitated back towards the Noivern in front of him. 

He was probably just bitter that he didn’t get more rest. Yesterday, after Lugia had found the dorms and washed himself, he’d entered the room only to discover that his bed was missing. At least, Kyriak had said it was missing, but it soon became clear that displacing beds was a hazing ritual, and thus Lugia had been forced to wander about the dorms until he had the idea to climb onto the roof from the top floor balcony. Carrying all the straw down was a challenge of its own, but the suffering did not end there. When Lugia returned to the room, exhausted from having taken five trips there and back, all of his roommates had been in wait and forced him into conversation for hours.

And then, of course, there was the snoring. Kyriak had fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d lain down, and immediately thereafter, it had begun. Lugia had tried to shut it out but as sure as hail round an Abomasnow, it was there to yank him from the grasp of sleep whenever he’d started to sink into its embrace. It was only when he’d entered a stupor from reading the rulebook in the dim light of his fires that he was finally unable to stay awake any longer, but scarcely had he entered a gentle dream of glistening snow before he was woken again.

Like it had countless times before, a particularly gravelly snore from the Croconaw wrenched him from his thoughts. Lugia frowned and tidied up his bed. There was little reason for him to stay here now, and though his mind was sluggish with morning haze, he rose from the straw, grabbed his bag, and crept out of the room.

The Luminous Orbs had not been activated yet, leaving the hall in the state of night. The outside did not display much greater signs of life, with the trees and grass and empty streets still under the yet colorless sky. It was so silent that Lugia could hear the lapping of waves on the distant shore, and he stopped to listen near the Nidoking statue. The water whispered as it rolled over the faraway sand; the gentle breaths of a slumbering sea. Closing his eyes, he let the drifting carry him away, and in his drowsiness he imagined himself floating peacefully in the depths of the ocean.

Ah, it was a long and lonely life under the sea, but never let it be said that, in its own way, it wasn’t beautiful.

So entranced was he that he might have fallen asleep right then, and for all he knew, he had, for when Lugia next opened his eyes, the sun was already up and several Pokémon were milling about. At last, Lugia decided to move and walked into the dining hall, which was only sparsely occupied. There was no sign of Sora or Eutak, so he helped himself to a few apples from the counter, sat in an empty corner of the room, and waited.

“Hey.”

Lugia blinked; he must have dozed off again. He shook his head and saw that Sora had taken the seat next to his, but instead of sitting she flopped over the table and let out an elongated groan. Her eyes were half closed, and Lugia had a feeling she didn’t get much more sleep than he did.

“You had to stay up late too, huh,” she said, her words warped from her cheek being smooshed against the wood.

Now self-conscious of his appearance, Lugia straightened himself and directed his gaze forward. The room was significantly fuller now. “Come now, Sora, don’t lie on the table like that.”

The Monferno huffed and dragged herself off of the table, falling back instead against the backrest. The moment she did, Eutak appeared suddenly on the chair opposite her.

“Good morning, hobbledehoys!” the Xatu said. He bent over and pecked into the bowl of berries he’d brought with him.

Sora stared at the psychic and batted her tail against a chair leg. “What did you call us?”

“Hobbledehoys!” The Xatu looked up at them and beamed. “I learned that word from one of my roommates. It’s quite fun to say – hobbledehoys, hobbledehoys.”

“Teleportation is forbidden in the guild common areas,” Lugia said, his voice a drone. Absently he finished munching on his last apple; he wasn’t awake enough to humor this sort of conversation. And he’d thought Sora was the energetic one.

“Hmm, looks like you two didn’t get much sleep,” the psychic said, unperturbed. “Stolen beds, huh?”

Sora crossed her arms and took her emotions out on an apple, chewing it vigorously. “Yeah. They combined it with the bed of a Snorlax. Who was asleep. Ugh.” She yawned, then reeled forward, attempting to catch the mushy bits of food that fell from her mouth. A guilty smile on her face, she turned to Lugia. “Did your bed get taken, too?”

Lugia arched his back and stretched his limbs. “Yes, it was on the roof.”

“Amateurs,” Eutak said with a proud scoff. “I just slept on the floor.”

The peal of the announcement bell halted Sora in the midst of her response, and as if she’d completely forgotten it, she hopped onto the ground and wagged her tail eagerly. Eutak joined her after finishing the contents of his bowl, and the two of them turned expectantly to Lugia, who scowled and drew his feet in under himself. He was in no hurry to be packed in that crowded hall again, but it was a discomfort he would have to endure.

The three of them weaved through the tables and the gathering Pokémon and made their way, in spite of Sora’s protests to be as close as possible, to the far wall of the main hall, where at least they could only be hustled from one side. Still, the increasing hubbub did help to chase away the last of the lassitude that clogged Lugia’s mind, and he wondered if there was any news of Darkrai or other Legendaries. With full clarity, too, he remembered the plan for today, the plan to talk to Zahir if Eutak’s psychic probing turned up nothing.

The wait was not long. Lugia could not see well past the back of the Hariyama who stood in front of him, but the moment the crowd stilled and quieted, it was obvious that Zahir had entered the room.

“Good morning, guild members.” The Scizor’s voice carried effortlessly to even the very corner. “I will keep this brief – there has been no word regarding the Legendary murders, so as promised, today we will join forces with research teams to investigate the abnormal behavior of ferals, and provide assistance to those in need.”

Lugia grimaced as the guildmaster began listing off team names and explaining their assignments. Another mission to impede him.

“Team Soren,” Zahir called, and Lugia listened. “You are to meet Team Matamis at the town gate and escort them to Biella, where you will leave them to local authorities. Not too challenging for a three-mon team, I hope.”

Sora shrunk back, hiding even further behind the Pokémon in front of them. Biella neighbored Modrall and was comfortably reachable via a prominent road in half an hour, so nobody would have missed the acerbity of the remark. Nonetheless, Lugia was somewhat pleased; the simpler their task, the sooner they could be back and talk to Zahir.

The Scizor did not have more to say once he’d gone through all the teams, and, thankfully in a more orderly fashion than yesterday, the crowd began to disperse at his dismissal. So it was with less irritation that Lugia pressed himself against the wall and waited out the worst of the exodus.

“Well then, off we go,” Eutak said, folding in his wings.

Lugia surveyed his surroundings and took a step towards the Xatu. “Actually, I need you to stay here.”

The psychic’s shoulders sagged, until he realized what Lugia was implying, at which point he straightened himself and saluted with his wing. “Right, yes, I’ll get it done! Before you get back!”

“Wait, what?” Sora said, standing by the Xatu’s side. “Why can’t he come?”

“As Zahir so kindly explained, this mission should be quick and simple,” Lugia said. “Simple enough for the two of us to complete, while Eutak ascertains the risk of telling him who I am.”

“Oh, right.”

Eutak extended his wing and tousled the fur on the Monferno’s head. “See you soon, then? Don’t get into too much trouble without me!”

“Duly noted,” Lugia said, giving him a nod. The Xatu’s buoyancy and the earlier flaunting of teleportation seemed to indicate that his psychic abilities were recharged, so there was little to worry about on that front. Now all that remained was to get the mission over with as soon as possible. “Shall we be going?”

Clapping her hands together, Sora rejoined Lugia, and with a goodbye wave to the Xatu she bounced towards the exit. It was only now that Lugia realized she’d taken off her bandages, revealing a bit of scar tissue and clipped fur on her torso, but judging by how readily she took the lead, she did not seem bothered.

It was her nature to lead, he knew, but witnessing it was a curious sensation, one that he’d ignored except for one time in the Korrin Salt Flat. There was no imminent danger to stir his concern for Sora like there was then, so he viewed this tendency of hers with idle interest. She knew, insofar as the mind could know without being presented tangible evidence, that he was Lugia and not her brother, but her insistence on directing him indicated otherwise. It seemed she didn’t fully appreciate his identity, his species, so she defaulted to treating him as a mortal. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with that. Still, Lugia wondered – would Sora act the same way around him once he returned to his body, if they ever saw each other again? Or would his more imposing form be all it took for her to stop interacting with him so casually?

The aforementioned Monferno stopped, a fact he discovered when her tail slapped him on the nose. He backpedaled and looked around. They stood at a familiar fork in the road, under the shade of a tall pine – the place where, according to Zahir, Team Matamis would be waiting.

A Cinccino walked up to them, holding up her scarf of thick fabric so that it didn’t touch the ground. “Hello, are you Team Soren of Modrall Guild?” she asked, her voice more nasal than an ill Nosepass. A Buizel joined her and held her paw.

“Yep, that’s us!” Sora said, presenting her badge.

Lugia nodded vacantly whilst examining the two Pokémon. They both wore bags similar to those from the guild, but they were somehow structurally reinforced to be rather neat rectangles. On the front flaps, embroidered in dark green, was written “RESEARCH INSTITUTE OF DEKASA.” But the bags may as well have been stolen, because those two did not strike him at all as researchers from such a renowned establishment. The Buizel clung to the normal type and both their faces were round as though about to burst into giggles – and why would the Cinccino set out with a scarf that was too long?

He noticed then that they were waiting for him to speak, and so he raised a paw and tried to erase any expression he might have unwittingly assumed. They were young; it would be wrong of him to judge them too harshly. “Good day. You must be Team Matamis.”

“That’s right,” the Buizel said, and rubbed his nose against the Cinccino’s. “I’m Graeme, and this is Esti.” Upon inhaling deeply, the water type gently pulled away from his teammate and faced them. “And you are?”

Expecting Sora to answer, Lugia said nothing, but the Monferno was goggling at the two researchers with a waggish grin. “I’m Ren, and this is Sora,” he said, somewhat loudly to snap her out of it.

Esti gasped before clapping her paws together and bouncing from foot to foot rapidly. “Aw, that’s so cute! Graeme, why didn’t we think of a team name like theirs?”

Lugia scoffed, smoke jetting from his nostrils. He turned to Sora but she was frustratingly oblivious to the Cinccino’s implications, forcing him to respond yet again. “We are not a couple; we are siblings.”

“Oh, well.” Esti wrapped her scarf in another loop around her neck. “Still, I think it’s an adorable idea! What do you think? We could be Gresti… or Esteme!”

“Or Esme,” Graeme said, letting the normal type lean against his chest.

“Ooh, yeah, that sounds nice!”

“It was your idea, really.”

“Anyway,” Lugia said forcefully, his voice cracking with the intensity that he hoped could somehow drive a wedge between the Buizel and Cinccino. At this rate, it would be midday by the time they slogged through these saccharine introductions. “We should head out now; we have another errand to run later today.”

The researchers separated with apparent difficulty, but it was progress nonetheless. Graeme adjusted the strap of his bag and straightened himself in what was hopefully readiness to depart. “Aren’t there three members on your team?”

“Yeah, he’s not coming though, sorry,” Sora said. She still regarded them amusedly, but Lugia did not pay it much mind; he was glad to let her do the talking again.

“Alright, let’s go then!” The Cinccino grasped the ends of her scarf like reins.

Sora looked to Lugia for confirmation, and he nodded. Thus, the four Pokémon finally set off, taking the path opposite the Hill of Beginnings. The trodden dirt soon gave way to smooth slabs of stone, a spacious road fringed by little shrubs. As they distanced themselves from Modrall’s cityscape, the sea came into view from beyond slopes of grass, rock, and sand, and Lugia gazed out into the waters while Sora guided them forth.

Of course, the silence – if Graeme and Esti’s frequent chuckles and exchanges of endearments could be called that – was never going to last forever, and it was Sora who ended it. “So, have you guys been to Biella before?”

From within their embrace, the researchers glanced at each other as if uncertain who should speak. Graeme decided to, while Esti skipped off to the side of the road. “No, this is our first time, but I’ve heard that it’s beautiful.”

“I think I’ve been there once when I was small, but I don’t really remember.” The Monferno gazed forwards pensively. “What brings you there, what kind of research do you do?”

“Oh, we’re going there to visit the dungeon by the city. You know it’s even called the Biella Dungeon? It’s been there since the city was founded, D-level and stable – they’ve kept pretty good tabs on it. Still, we need to take some energy readings.”

Lugia tore his attention from the seashore and angled his head towards the Buizel. They were speleologists? Perhaps they could have some relevant information after all. “If it’s stable, why take readings?” he asked. Sora turned to him, no doubt surprised to hear him speak. “Do you suspect that the abnormal dungeon activity has somehow affected even dungeons that don’t seem to show physical symptoms?”

“Good question,” the water type said, eyeing Lugia in a new light. “Yes, it’s a possibility we’re investigating. We’ve already seen abnormalities in dungeons that aren’t expanding, such as increased gravity and internal metamorphosis. But Biella has kept detailed records, which might help us identify a pattern.”

Lugia nodded. Then, whatever it was that was affecting dungeons was most likely universal. Chewing his lip, he now thought how best to proceed whilst not appearing disproportionately knowledgeable. “What could be causing these abnormalities, do you think?”

“No clue,” Graeme said, scratching the fur beneath his collar. “But we have fun thinking about that one. It might just be the natural tendency of dungeons to change behavior at a certain point. Or it could be some external factor, like temperature, earthquakes, population, what have you… There’s even talk of the legend of Giratina.”

Before Lugia could stop her, Sora jumped in. “Ooh, I know that one!” she said. “That’s the one where Giratina was trapped in the Reverse World and dungeons were created because of it, right?”

“You two are well informed! Are you sure you’re not researchers?” The Buizel gave them a smile. “That’s the one, and some are saying this is the return of Giratina, the Day of Judgment. But mons will say that about anything – remember last summer, with all that whacky weather? Yeah.”

Satisfied by this reaction, Lugia withdrew into himself again. Graeme was familiar with the story, but to him it was myth, and that was all right. Beyond that, he didn’t seem to have any answers.

Their conversation seemed to have opened the floodgates, and Graeme and Esti, who had brought her attention back to them, launched into a hearty chat with Sora. Lugia in turn let his mind wander, but their voices were too shrill to be ignored, and he overheard facts he already knew – the two of them were from Dekasa, they were relatively new members of the local research institute, and they were mates. Sora congratulated them genially, and from then on Graeme and Esti reversed the situation and inquired about her. Here Lugia listened in case she revealed too much, but her answers seemed drawn from days before, prior to his arrival.

At that point the subject turned towards friends and relationships, and Lugia decided to take a step away from the group and refocus on the seascape. In doing so he spotted the straight lines of a city in the distance, and he accelerated his pace. Any conservation of time was welcome, and Lugia’s flames flickered at the thought of their return trip. 

Today could be the day he became himself again. The thought filled him with a strange heaviness, and he felt outside of himself like he had when he first woke as a Quilava. His paws, his sensitive nose, the perky ears, the additional warmth and fuzziness of his fur and the fire that dwelled within him – they would soon no longer be his. They never were, truthfully, but it was easy to forget that.

With this on his mind, the remainder of the trip went by in a blur. Before long they reached Biella and found their way to a rather modest building, marked “Biella Exploration, Research, and Rescue” by faded letters. Lugia hung back as the researchers said goodbye and gave Sora a suitably meager reward, the uncertainty of events ahead sitting heavily on his shoulders. The Buizel and Cinccino entered the building and the mission was over.

“Ren?”

Lugia turned to Sora inquisitively.

She approached him hesitantly. “Are you okay? You seem a bit… I don’t know, out of it.”

“Ah, I apologize if I have been distant,” he said, fixing his eyes on her as if to prove his attentiveness. “I was merely reflecting.”

“On what?”

He beckoned towards the sea, which was now obscured by a curtain of trees and buildings. “Home.”

Sora nodded but lightly curled her paws, and Lugia knew she wasn’t satisfied with his answer. “Well, I think it was a bit rude, not even saying goodbye. They were really nice.”

Lugia drew his head back in mild disbelief, but the Monferno did not budge. “Right, yes, sorry,” he said, and spun around on the spot. “We should go; Eutak is probably finished by now.”

With that he started out, leaving Sora to scurry after him. She caught up but said nothing, and Lugia absorbed the sight of the city as they walked through it. The color scheme was decidedly more silver than that of Modrall, with even the grass and trees possessing a platinum sheen, as though a veil blanketed the town. The air was still, too, devoid of the salty tang, the waves, and the din of activity that were so present in their home town.

Of course, Lugia was happy to see the sea again, and once more he stuck to the side of the road as they left Biella.

“Hey, I was wondering,” Sora said, her arms by her sides and her gaze in the clouds. “What are you going to do once you leave?”

Lugia slanted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I don’t know if you live in the sea or somewhere else, but I thought maybe one day Ren and I could visit you. If you want, I mean! I know some Legendaries like visits, like Victini; I hear he even hangs around in towns sometimes. You’re probably not like that, but still. Could be fun.”

“I…” His voice trailed off. Not ever had he anticipated such a sentiment from her, and a peculiar blend of warmth and emptiness seized him. Was she truly saying that she wanted to see him again? It was almost impossible to believe – it had to be a formality. “Sora, are you at all familiar with my species?”

The Monferno scratched her head. “Hmm. Lugia, right? You’re… that blue and white bird with really pointy wings? Flies around really fast and can turn invisible?”

He stared at her, trying to piece together her words. Then he sighed. “No, I believe you confuse me with Latios. They cannot survive underwater as I can.”

“Oh… yeah.”

She turned to him expectantly, and Lugia bit his lip. He’d run himself into a bit of a corner; she wanted, of course, to know more about him, but he did not want her to know. It would involve revealing that which he’d been trying to hide from even himself. He turned away. “I am, as it happens, also a blue and white bird – but why ruin the mystery; you may see for yourself today. And I would be very pleased to have you visit.”

“Cool!” She beamed and her tail flame sparked. “But uh, do you actually live underwater? Because it might be kind of hard to get there.”

“No, no, my body is where it is because I had been exploring. I live in”–he paused to think–“the Shrine of Enzocadia, near the city of Enzol. Do you know where that is?”

“Uh, no.”

“Ah, it is across the Surrounded Sea. But finding it, I shall leave up to you. Call it an explorer’s challenge.”

Sora clenched her hands into fists and smoke wafted from within. “Ha, it’ll be easy, you’ll see!”

Smiling weakly, Lugia stomped firmly against the stone. Why did it feel so wrong to lie to her? It had been his intention from the very beginning to not let her get attached to him. It was better for everyone that way.

However he tried to reason out of it, however he tried to distract himself with the available view as they walked on, the feeling clung to him. His only relief was that this ordeal would hopefully be over soon. Yet, strangely, as the walls of Modrall came into view and he thought ahead to what Eutak might say, even that was no longer a comfort.

“I just realized, I have no idea what I’m going to tell Zahir,” Sora said. Her tail, previously held high with determination, now drooped. “After you’re gone, I mean – we probably won’t be able to stay. How do we say that we’re leaving? We can’t just say we quit…”

Lugia shrugged. “Why not? Think of it this way – and I sincerely mean no offense when I say this – if you do not ask to quit, you will likely be thrown out for underperforming. It would be easier on you if you walked out before then.”

“Okay, but he’s going to want a reason; he’s not just going to let us quit because we feel like it.”

“It is your decision, Sora. He may protest but ultimately it is not his choice. If you are asked to explain, you are not obliged to say anything more than something like, ‘We don’t feel right here; we want to go back to our previous guild.’”

They passed the wooden gates and found themselves on the main road, a road that had become so familiar. Sora pulled on the fur on the back of her arm. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “What about Eutak? He might not like it at Harlow’s Guild. I mean, he’s not young, or, you know. Challenged.”

“Neither are you, comparatively.”

“But I’m there for Ren. Eutak… I think he joined mostly because of you.”

Lugia dipped his head. How perceptive of her to notice. Sighing, he glanced at the little pebbles on the road and the mismatching houses beside them. All this talk of a time after he was gone made his departure feel real, almost trivial, as though he would just grab his bag and leave. But it was good for Sora to think it through now. “I have that impression also. But, perhaps this experience has changed him. Perhaps he–”

“Oh, what’s going on?” Sora said, pointing ahead. “Look!”

Lugia did not need to follow her finger; it was impossible to miss. A distance ahead, around the city square, a crowd of Pokémon was gathered, obscuring the path beyond.

Standing on her toes, Sora craned her neck, but they were much too far. “Did something happen?”

She dashed forward suddenly, and Lugia couldn’t help but chuckle at her energy. With a roll of his shoulders, he quickened his pace to a trot and soon approached the throng. It seemed to be arranged in a circle, but he could not yet see within. He saw Sora though, attempting to wriggle her way into the center of the square, and he moved towards her.

As he did, he gained a line of sight into the ring, and he froze. His legs trembled and a biting cold gripped his very core, as though all the fire within him had been blown out by an arctic wind. For there, hovering in the midst of the crowd, was Darkrai.

The dark type had his back turned to him, but Lugia could not bring himself to run. All he could do was stare forward, transfixed. Frays of black and plumes of white drifted from Darkrai like smoke, shrouding him in a murky haze.

With one smooth motion Darkrai swiveled, and their eyes met. The entire world faded away leaving only those eyes of piercing blue. Lugia’s fur bristled and he held his breath; he felt so very tiny and the eyes could see right through him, the eyes were relentless. But there was something else in them, a vast emptiness and uncertainty, and in one moment Lugia knew: Darkrai didn’t know it was him.

“Sora!” he called. The world returned to focus and the shackles of fear fell away. He scampered to the Monferno and locked her in a hug. He buried his face into the fur of her neck, and held her tightly with his forelimbs.

“Ow, R-Ren?” Gradually the fire type relaxed, and she patted his head. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment he remained there, letting the warmth and charcoal scent of her fur calm his racing heart. “Sora,” he whispered. “Try not to panic. That Pokémon is Darkrai.”

The Monferno went stiff in his arms, and her head jerked up.

“No, don’t stare,” he hissed, pushing her head down with a paw. “I don’t think he knows who I am, but if we look like we recognize him, he might notice. Is he facing this way?”

“N-No.”

“Good.” He glanced about the square. The market stalls were closed, draped over with tarps, and the increasing influx of Pokémon clogged the connecting streets. “We need to get out of here. Don’t run, just walk.”

He could feel her shivering and her frantic pulse, but she nodded. They separated.

“There you are!”

Lugia jumped, but he knew the voice was not Darkrai’s. It was Zahir’s, and indeed Lugia turned around to see the Scizor marching towards them. The steel type’s gait was charged and his pincers were shut tightly, and Lugia took a hesitant step back. In no time at all the guildmaster had reached them and stood before them aggressively.

“H-Hello, Mr. Zahir,” Sora said. She did not attempt to hide her trembling or her wide eyes.

“Hello indeed.” Zahir curled his lip and glared at her, then at Lugia. “I am tolerant of many things, but transgression is not one of them.”

The Monferno shrunk down and gave Lugia a desperate sidelong glance. “I don’t understand…”

“Do not give me this pathetic act! You will explain to me, right now, why your teammate, the psychic who you so conveniently enlisted yesterday, very deliberately attempted to infiltrate my mind!”

Lugia looked behind himself. Darkrai still had his back turned to them. It was only then that the Scizor’s words reached him. Eutak had failed; Zahir must have been trained against telepathy. But they still had to get away!

“This is a punishable offense,” the steel type growled, looming over them. “Either you answer me or you will be turned over to the authorities.”

Lugia did not have the time to answer.

“At last,” came Darkrai’s voice, a voice thin and suffusive and instantly recognizable.

The voice was not directed at him. Darkrai faced the sea-bound road, and the crowd parted there as though to avoid his gaze. Through the gap of murmuring and restless Pokémon entered Harlow and Sabre.

Why were they here, what did Darkrai want with them? Furiously Lugia tried to think, but at the sight of the dark type his thoughts fled from him. Even Zahir seemed to be mesmerized.

Darkrai drifted closer to the Nidoqueen. “You are Harlow, guildmaster of the Guild for the Young and Challenged?”

Harlow held her head high and met his gaze. “I am. I hear you wish to speak with me.”

“I do.” The corners of Darkrai’s mouth spread. “You see, I am pursuing a certain Legendary, and I’m afraid he has eluded me. I believe you can help me with that.”

The escalating mutters of the crowd coalesced into a single roaring sound, and Lugia winced. He didn’t understand; why did Darkrai not know who he was, but suspected Harlow of knowing? Whose dreams could he have possibly absorbed to gain such a scope of information?

With mounting dread, he realized that it didn’t matter. Darkrai would get what he wanted, and Lugia needed to be far away from him by then.

He turned back to Sora. “We need to go, now.”

The Monferno didn’t respond and stared raptly forwards. He moved to stir her but was stopped by the flat of Zahir’s pincer pressing against his back.

“You are staying right here until this is over so I can deal with you,” the Scizor said.

“I am not associated with any Legendary,” Harlow said, and Lugia watched, digging his paws into the dirt. “I don’t know what would make you think otherwise, but you may be mistaken.”

With a raspy sigh, Darkrai extended his claws. The air thickened into a fog and it was difficult to breathe, and Lugia’s feet twitched with the instinct to run. 

“I see,” the dark type said. “Pity. I do not have to ask, you understand. The verbal approach is simply more efficient.”

For the first time, Harlow shuddered beneath Darkrai’s leer, and Lugia could no longer remain idle. “Zahir, please listen to me,” he said, shifting under the Scizor’s pincer. “The Legendary that Darkrai is looking for is–”

The crowd writhed and screeched. Lugia wheeled around to see Darkrai with one arm suspended in the air, aglow with a pale light. The Dark Void. In an instant Harlow fell to the ground, and with a cry Sabre leapt at the dark type. Darkrai merely opened his palm and the Sandslash was struck down with an explosion of violet. He lay on the road, unmoving.

For a second there was only silence, and then like a singular entity the peripheries of the crowd shouted in agitation and converged on the Legendary. 

A great gust of wind swept the square, knocking Lugia back until he crashed into the base of a market stall. Bits of wood and tarp collapsed onto him, and in a daze he dragged himself out from under them. He looked down and saw a trail of red beneath him, and a deep gash on his side.

“ _No more interruptions_!” Darkrai shrieked, his voice suddenly earsplitting and distorted. The wind had stopped but the drape-like pieces of himself raged about him and made him seem to grow in size. His eyes, now wide and livid, fixed on Harlow and then closed.

Slowly Lugia clambered onto his feet. Clouds of dust stung his eyes but he could see Pokémon strewn about, either unconscious or rendered stiff with fear. Coughing, Lugia limped past the stall and glanced through the chaos. By the remains of the adjacent stand he spotted Zahir laying down the inert body of Sora, and he staggered over to them. If Darkrai was Dream Eating, he didn’t have much time.

The Scizor looked at him briefly. “She’ll wake up any minute. When she does, get as far as you can.”

His intent was at once clear, and Lugia shook his head. “You can’t fight him. Look… Look at Sabre. Those burns, they’re the same kind of burns Arceus was found with, yes?”

The steel type turned in the direction of the Sandslash, and his expression went grim.

“Please, I need your help,” Lugia said, his words slurring as darkness crept into his vision. “The Pokémon Darkrai is searching for is me; any moment now he’ll know. He killed the Legendaries, and he’ll kill me.”

Zahir studied him for a moment. Then abruptly he moved in front of him and faced the other way. Lugia looked out from behind him and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Lugia,” said Darkrai in a whisper. He floated in their direction with absolute calm and smiled. “I’ve found you at last.”


	10. Chapter 10

The dust clouds drifted along the ground, and as if in uniformity Darkrai glided forth. He came to a stop in front of them and peered down from behind his crimson collar, and the dense fog from earlier coalesced into thin tendrils around him.

Vaguely, Lugia had the sensation of being pushed back, and through the pain in his side and the stupor that threatened to claim him, he felt Zahir’s pincer press against his chest. _He’s shielding me_ , a stray thought told him. But what was the point? Even now Lugia felt the encroaching darkness; he felt it in the shortness of his breath and the numbness of his limbs.

“You took the form of a Quilava,” Darkrai said, almost disapprovingly. “An unfortunate outcome.”

Lugia looked up at the dark type and opened his mouth to speak, to ask why he was doing this or even to plead for mercy, but no words came. Instead he watched with a profound emptiness as Darkrai raised his arm, as his claws shimmered with a pale glow – The Dark Void. Lugia hung his head. The pain in his side receded. Sound and sight fled from him, as if in acceptance of the approaching end.

His thoughts turned to the ocean, to blue. It was all he could see. Then the earth gave way with a tremendous roar, and he fell. He could still hear voices, familiar voices, but they were distant and broken, and finally they were silenced completely as Lugia sank into the depths of sleep.

Then, as though he had woken from a nightmare, his muscles twitched in anticipation and his mind jumped to absorb and assess his surroundings. But he forced his eyes shut and remained still, for he knew that this was the dream, the dream that Darkrai created for him to be the place of his death. And he did not wish to see it.

Try as he might to shield himself from whatever environment he was in, certain things could not escape his attention. The biting of the grainy earth and the howling wind gave shape to his form, and even blind and unmoving, he knew he was a Lugia. Yet, he felt no larger, no stronger than he was as a Quilava, and the sheer strength of the storm above made him flatten himself against the ground.

Lugia withdrew into himself and waited. He tried to ignore the coldness of his skin as he covered himself with his wings, and he tried to ignore the gravel as it rolled past him in the gust. He tried to suppress his memories of Articuno, Sora, and Eutak; tried not to think of how he’d failed them and that he’d never see them again. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it without giving Darkrai any torment to feast on.

Time, however, time and the unceasing hurricane eroded his resolve. How long would this take? Would it hurt? He felt no pain now, but why? When Darkrai had first attacked, in that underwater dream, it had hurt. Was Darkrai merely toying with him, leaving him in the constant fear that any second could be his last? Lugia braced himself as though this realization would bring about the final strike, but none came, and he remained lying there, tensed, until the adrenaline ebbed away and he was graced with a sudden lucidity. 

_Maybe I don’t have to die_. The notion spread through him like fire, dispelling the cold. _Maybe I can still escape_.

Slowly, Lugia brought himself to his feet. The wind whipped away the dirt that had begun to crust his hide. Then he opened his eyes. He stood in the midst of a field of charcoal and rusted brown sand, dunes that rose and fell until they faded into the impenetrable blackness of the horizon. There was no light from the sky, but an unseen moon illuminated the particles of dust as they were swept along the ground in a current of silver.

_What is this?_ He gave his wings a flap. A thunderclap reverberated throughout the atmosphere and a wave of dust erupted in front of him, proceeding to be whisked away by the wind.

It was entirely possible that Darkrai forewent constructing an elaborate dream, but… this was the Legendary who had pulled off a nested dream, going to great lengths just to give Lugia the fright of his life as he died. This barren landscape was nowhere as nightmarish in comparison. Why was Darkrai showing him this? And why was he still alive?

Ultimately, it didn’t matter – it only strengthened his desire to keep fighting.

Just as he spread his wings in preparation to take off, from the corner of his eye he saw motions of white and crimson in the lone shadow of a sand dune. They seemed to be connected to a single being lurking in the dark, a being that Lugia was certain had not been there previously. Lowering himself to all fours, Lugia crept down into the trough, skidding as the dust trickled from under his feet. The howl of the storm grew distant as though he were descending into a deep abyss, yet even as he approached, the creature remained obscured.

Lugia stopped with the tips of his wings at the shadow’s edge. Without a visible light source, the shadow almost seemed painted. “Hello?” he whispered, and twitched upon hearing his own voice. It was surprisingly deep – no, not surprisingly. He was thinking of Ren’s voice.

The figure in front of him convulsed suddenly, and the shadow lightened just enough for the vague silhouette to take the form of Darkrai. Lugia flinched and drew back, shielding himself with his wing preemptively. But the dark type made no move, and slowly Lugia lowered his wing.

Seconds passed and Darkrai was motionless. Heavy shackles, linked by chains that led into the very earth, anchored him to the dirt. Warily, Lugia moved closer. The dark type’s eyelids lifted and he met Lugia’s gaze.

The chains came alive with a sudden jerk and slithered into the earth with incredible speed, shredding Darkrai into ribbons. Not a moment after, sand burst from the earth in plumes, fluttering in the violent winds until it streamed into an accumulating mass hovering above the ground. The mass was enormous, multiple times larger than Lugia himself, and took the shape of a clawed hand. The shadow it cast engulfed everything, and the world was plunged into complete darkness.

Lugia knew that he needed to run, but it was as though his loss of vision brought with it an inability to move. The air whistled and roared, and he knew _it_ was falling. For a fraction of a second he felt every bone in his body break, and then–

Lugia bolted upright, almost hitting something orange in front of him. Panting, he blinked away the blurriness from his eyes, but before he could even focus on the Pokémon in front of him, he was grabbed into a hug.

“You’re okay,” a voice sniffled into his ear. “You’re okay.”

Letting his body go limp, he fell into the embrace. The warmth of it drained the shock from his rigid form and instilled something else in him, an unfamiliar giddiness that electrified him. He found himself chuckling inexplicably and returning the hug.

_I’m awake – I’m alive!_

“Eat this,” said Zahir, who had been watching from the side. His expression was inscrutable, but Lugia remembered his actions at the square and could only be relieved to see him.

The square. As Lugia downed the Heal Seed and Sitrus Berry he was handed and his faculties returned to him, the memories came back – Darkrai Dream Eating Harlow at the square, then turning on him. His stomach churned at the mere thought, and he pushed himself back from Sora and let himself fall back onto the bed on which he’d lain. The Monferno relocated herself to his side and held his paw – his Quilava paw.

“What happened?” Lugia asked, taking note of the infirmary around him. A muted sting still radiated from his side; the wound had been dressed. “How did we escape?”

“Eutak teleported us,” the Scizor said, meeting Lugia’s gaze for a moment before walking to a wall of shelves and packing items into the bag he carried. “Darkrai had already put you to sleep, but we managed to get here and wake you.”

Lugia nodded but looked look at his paws skeptically. It was believable that they woke him, but Darkrai must have had been capable of killing him in the time he’d had. With a shiver, Lugia remembered the dream. Why had Darkrai spent so much time showing him those bizarre images? Or were they something else, something more?

Whatever the circumstances were, he was alive, which meant he still had a chance.

It was only then that Lugia fully absorbed the steel type’s words, and he glanced about the room. “Where is he? Eutak?”

“I sent him to the psychic ward. Teleporting us all took its toll.”

The Scizor’s tone was flat as ever, but Lugia knew it was an understatement. It was only yesterday that Eutak had managed to expend all of his strength in just a few minutes of short range teleporting in a controlled sparring session. The Xatu must have been dreadfully sick after today’s feat, if not facing lasting damage, and Lugia grimaced at the notion. He knew what psychic overexertion could lead to. Hopefully the psychic ward would do Eutak good.

At last Lugia rolled over and slowly raised himself to his feet. The slight buckling of his knees unsteadied him, and Sora let him lean against her. Testing the strength of his limbs, he righted himself and gave her a nod. It was only then that he noticed some of the scars from days ago had reopened, leaving streaks of blood on her fur. But it seemed she had no concern left to spare on herself; instead she kept watching him, no doubt to catch him if he fell again. This obvious disregard of her own wellbeing, for the sake of his – even though he was not the true target of her actions – made his fires burn. Rightful body or no, he was a Legendary. He would not let himself be such a burden to others; he would carry his own weight.

“Have you been told of where we need to go?” Lugia asked, ignoring the weakness in his legs and walking towards Zahir.

The Scizor paused stocking his bag with items and turned to him attentively.

“We need to create a Magnagate to get to the Surrounded Sea rift,” Lugia said. “That’s where my body is.”

“Is that where you are from?”

For a moment Lugia inclined his head, puzzled by the question, but then he saw the scrutiny in the steel type’s glare and he knew, knew that Zahir would eventually draw the connection between him and the Great Hurricane, just like Harlow had. But Eutak had never found out what this might mean for the guildmaster, and all Lugia could do was hope that he would be as understanding as she had been.

“There’s no time to explain,” Lugia said. “Darkrai may know I’m here.”

Zahir raised his head. “Dream Eater?”

Lugia nodded.

The steel type closed his bag. “Very well. Let’s–”

“I’m coming, I’m here!” a distant voice squawked. “Is he alright? Oh, he’d better be alright!” At this point Lugia turned to the doorway in anticipation, and seconds later Eutak stumbled into the room in an awkward combination of running and flying. His feathers were ruffled and, upon locating Lugia, his wings began to quiver. “Oh, you’re awake! Thank goodness! I’m so sorry, I should’ve been there sooner, but Zahir caught me when I tried to read his mind and made me stay there, and – I couldn’t read his mind either, sorry; I didn’t think he’d be able to–”

“Compose yourself, Eutak,” Zahir said.

The Xatu froze, then hesitantly smoothed his crests. “Ah. Yes. Sorry.”

Although the euphoria from before had worn off, Lugia could not fault the psychic, and he shook his head with a smile. “Are you well?”

As if reanimated, the Xatu nodded vigorously, although as he did his wings seemed to stiffen. “Yeah, I’m better now! Though… I might not be teleporting any time soon.”

At this Lugia narrowed his eyes, and he paid further attention to the way Eutak carried himself.

“We can discuss this later,” Zahir said, stepping between them and glancing at each of them in turn. Sora took her place by Lugia’s side, and Eutak stood to attention. “Darkrai may not give up chase; we cannot stay here.”

“That’s right,” Eutak said. “Have they told you? We need to get to–”

“The beach, yes.” The Scizor moved to the doorway, and at varying paces Team Soren joined him. He looked sternly at Sora and Eutak. “You two, however, are not going.”

“What?” Sora exclaimed, grabbing hold of Lugia’s forelimb as though he were about to be snatched away.

Zahir’s expression remained unyielding. “This is an underwater Magnagate dungeon. You would probably faint from merely walking around, Sora, and as for you, Eutak – since you are weakened and cannot teleport, you would be of more use looking after Sora and taking her to a shelter. You know where they are, I trust.”

The logic was sound, of course, but Lugia found himself surprised to hear the command from someone else, and he turned sympathetically to Sora and then Eutak, who only bowed his head.

“What about Ren?” the Monferno protested, her grip on Lugia’s leg remaining fast. “He’ll have it even worse in there! I can’t just leave him!”

“We will have about two hours to locate Lugia’s body in the wide expanse of a sea floor dungeon and get out.” The Scizor gnashed his pincers. “If we’re not fast enough, the entire ocean collapses in on us and we die. We cannot afford to lose a single second – I’ll carry him if I must.”

Sora trembled, and for the first time, Lugia saw her look at him with doubt, with wary acceptance of the idea that perhaps, this once, she could not be with him.

“But I can save time!” Eutak said. “I can fly ahead and scout around! And uh, Sora”–he looked at the Monferno, who gaped at him–“could help me. It’s probably not going to be too bright down there, so… I could carry her and she could help me see!”

Silence ensued, and Lugia cringed at the blatant desperation of the Xatu’s arguments. Yet, he found himself waiting expectantly for Zahir’s reaction. 

In the face of all of them, the Scizor relaxed his pincers and sighed. “Very well – on your own lives be it. Let’s move.”

The guildmaster left the room in quick strides and the trio followed him, but not before Sora gave Eutak a nod of gratitude, and Lugia’s foreleg a reassuring squeeze. By now the healing items had taken effect, enabling him to walk without difficulty. It surprised him, then, that Sora stopped as they exited the infirmary, but once he stepped outside he understood. Black trails of smoke wisped from behind rows of buildings near the square. Even from where Lugia stood, the air smelled of charcoal.

“After we got away, Darkrai was… frustrated,” Zahir said, never slowing. “Almost unhinged. I’ve never see anything like it.”

Biting his lip, Lugia turned to Sora. He’d almost forgotten about the other Pokémon at the square, and how Darkrai had attacked Harlow and Sabre. The Monferno had appeared brave and unaffected until now, but the sight of the explosion seemed to possess her, make her unable to look away. Eutak, too, watched on and said nothing.

Zahir angled his head to look back at them with one eye. “Remember what I told you – they’ll be all right. Harlow, Sabre; everyone. Darkrai is pursuing Lugia, not them, so they shouldn’t be in any more danger, and by now healers are at the scene.”

“Yeah,” the Monferno said weakly. Her tail was low but she continued onward.

The four progressed into a narrow alley and the walls blocked all traces of the explosion from view. All that remained was the sky, blue and bright as any other day. Next they rejoined the parent road, and at last Lugia managed to orient himself. The grandiose buildings of the guild and the colorful patches of flowers at the sides were recognizable, but the absence of crowds of Pokémon and all the background chatter sapped the life from the street, leaving it feeling cold and unfamiliar.

“Where is everyone?” Lugia asked.

Zahir did not answer and kept moving swiftly along the side of the road. “The shelters,” Eutak whispered, lowering his head. “There are a bunch of them underground. In the event of serious danger, like a Legendary attack, everyone is supposed to hide in them.”

“Shelters? Why would the town have…” Lugia cut himself off and flattened his ears. Zahir did not show signs of hearing them, and fortunately Eutak did not comment further as they entered the main hall. _He_ was the reason they had shelters.

“I’ll get the Entercards; wait here,” the Scizor said before continuing on to his chamber.

Sora and Eutak did as they were told, stopping by the wall adjoining the entrance, but Lugia hesitated as he watched the guildmaster enter his chamber. The memory of Zahir’s demeanor from days past came to mind, and Lugia realized how fortunate it was that the Scizor was being so cooperative. He’d already shown signs of distrust, but all the same, he’d decided to aid them with next to no knowledge of their situation. Lugia only hoped that his support would last.

Within the minute, the steel type returned and faced the entrance. Lugia followed his gaze – Darkrai was out there somewhere, no doubt about it. Fortunately, unlike Dream Eater, Dark Void could only be cast at close range, so as long as Lugia didn’t go to sleep, the dark type would have to find them to kill him.

“Stay together and stay quiet,” the guildmaster said.

Lightly the three Pokémon trod after Zahir, with Eutak at the back as guard. They did not take the main road; the Scizor led them through a network of backstreets and arcades. In these more secluded parts there were still Pokémon scurrying frightfully about, often dispersing as they passed. Some paused at the sight of the guildmaster, some asked what was going on in wavering voices, but the Scizor only offered laconic assurances and continued onward.

Even amidst the walls and the locals, Lugia felt exposed, and his fur stood on end. Darkrai’s knowledge of their whereabouts would have ended once they’d left the guild, but… he’d also Dream Eaten Harlow, and she’d known where Lugia’s body was. It wasn’t unlikely, then, that Darkrai was aware of their plan and would be in pursuit.

But how had he picked up the trail in the first place? The question beset Lugia as they veered past cramped crossroads, as the lapping of the waves and the scent of the sea grew ever stronger. There could not have been many Pokémon who knew of Lugia’s whereabouts, specifically his general location but not his identity – the two things Darkrai had known. In fact, he struggled to think of any name at all; only Harlow, Sabre, Eutak, and Sora had known who he was at the time, so they must have told somebody else. The latter two were likely to be exempt, so who could Harlow and Sabre have told?

The answer struck him like a physical force, and he froze. Eutak bumped his talons into Lugia’s heels, but it only registered as a distant sensation. Their concerned questions were joined by the voice of Zahir, no doubt telling him to keep moving, but his limbs had seized up and a crippling terror consumed him. From the day he’d woken, he’d convinced himself that Darkrai was after him, not Articuno, but it had never crossed his mind that Darkrai might use Articuno to get to him. And what had Lugia done? He’d sent Articuno a letter that, unless Harlow changed his wording, contained his location but not his identity; the exact scope of information that Darkrai had possessed. And the return address would have led him to Harlow.

With Articuno’s presumed safety no longer a reality, the levelheadedness Lugia had been able to achieve crumbled. Through a constricted throat he started breathing again, and he forced his limbs into motion. His vision, teary now, tunneled in on the path ahead.

“What’s wrong?” Sora asked, giving his back a rub.

Zahir shot them a quick glance. “Is it Darkrai?”

Lugia shook his head but did not lift his gaze from the ground. Mechanically he kept going, moving one foot, then another – what if Articuno was hurt? What if he was suffering, and meanwhile Lugia had been wasting time with meaningless missions and pointless charades? He quickened his pace.

“Ren, please,” Sora whispered, jogging to keep up with him. “If something’s wrong, you should tell us.”

Something about her voice and the comforting hand on his back brought his misgivings to the surface. “It’s…” He shuddered and blinked his eyes dry. “I think I know how Darkrai knew to look here.”

“How?”

“My – I’d sent a letter sent to my mate. Darkrai might have–”

A swift gesture of Zahir’s pincer halted him in midsentence, and they stopped. Lugia raised his head to see that the alley had joined to an esplanade, leaving them in the face of the sea, stretching to all sides and sweeping into the beach that lay in front of them. In the open now, the cool sea wind ruffled Lugia’s fur, and for a moment he watched the water. It was calm, but the emptiness and stillness around was more ominous than relaxing. 

“The area’s clear,” Zahir said, but an unspoken warning made them continue with caution. They descended to the beach, to the very edge of the water where the sand was damp and stuck to the pads of Lugia’s feet.

The guildmaster pulled the Entercards out of his bag, but Lugia faced the town. The trails of smoke above the desolate cityscape filled him with unease, and he glanced over all the avenues to the esplanade. Sora and Eutak were doing the same.

At a flash of light behind him, Lugia turned around. Four square cards, exactly how he remembered them from the book he’d read, had been placed onto the sand, close enough for the seawater to trickle over them. Slightly farther into the sea, a halo of brilliant gold light formed a portal floating on the surface, parting the water around it.

A quiet squeak came from Sora. “Th-That’s where we’re going?”

Lugia joined her in staring into the portal. Water trickled into it, into a well of darkness of indeterminable depth. In spite of himself, the striking impossibility of it made him queasy.

“It is not too late for you to turn back,” Zahir said, picking up the Entercards.

With a gulp the Monferno edged towards Lugia.

“Very well.” The Scizor stepped into the water and peered into the portal. The light glanced off his exoskeleton and Lugia could hardly look at him. “It’s a three meter drop. Eutak?”

The Xatu spread his wings. “Yes?”

“Carry Sora down. I’ll take Lugia.”

“All right! Hop aboard,” Eutak said, crouching and turning his back to the Monferno.

Visibly hesitant, the simian left Lugia’s side and climbed onto Eutak’s back. The Xatu waddled towards the portal and curled his talons over the rim. Sora took one glimpse into the pit and burrowed her head into his feathers.

“Hold on,” the bird said, not a moment before letting himself fall forward. The two were swallowed by the light, leaving behind only the echo of Sora’s scream. Then there was a splash, and the distant sound of Eutak’s laughter.

“It’s all right, come on down!” the Xatu called.

Lugia found himself tensed. His back was arched and his entire body seemed to lean away. Zahir looked at him impatiently, and at last Lugia stepped forward. The water was cool, and did not reach higher than his knees. 

From up close, he could see deeper into the portal, and Sora and Eutak waved at him from below. Without warning he was seized from behind, and then he was falling through the earth. Light and water rushed by him in a blur until they came to a jarring stop and, the air knocked out of him, Lugia lurched out from Zahir’s hold. For a moment he stood there rigidly, panting, and gradually he calmed – the Scizor had merely startled him with the jump. Then he took notice of what he was standing on.

The sea floor was, of course, a very familiar sight to Lugia, but this was different. The sand beneath the shallow water at his feet was tough and striated with dashes of grey, and the portal’s glow, so bright before, only cast a colorless and flickering light over the seabed. Lugia trailed it with his gaze until he saw the first dungeon wall, and his jaw slackened. It resembled glass, an enormous pane of glass down which water cascaded and met the sand, then retreated into the murkiness beyond.

“It’s beautiful,” Eutak breathed, facing upwards. The ceiling, much like the walls, held back the entirety of the sea, with scarcely a shimmer as a visible barrier.

It was indeed magnificent, and yet Lugia’s stomach churned and his fire patches smoldered. The inexplicably restrained water on all sides should have been appealing, but now he watched it anxiously. Would the panes hold? The air felt terribly oppressive, too, dampening his fur and making the wound on his side sting anew.

He focused on the ground ahead of him. Now was not the time to dawdle; he had to reach his body soon.

As though he’d read Lugia’s expression, Zahir said, “Let’s not waste any more time. Remember, we have two hours before this place collapses.”

Sora returned to Lugia’s side, but he did not acknowledge her.

“Eutak,” the Scizor went on, “do what you promised. Take Sora and scout ahead.”

The Monferno looked at Lugia and lowered her head. “It’ll be all right,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I know you’re worried, but… I’m sure your mate’s fine.”

Managing a slight smile, Lugia nodded, and he watched as the fire type climbed onto Eutak once again. Her own tail flame struggled to stay ablaze. She must have been suffering in this environment as well, and yet somehow, as always, she seemed perfectly able to put on a brave face.

“What about the portal?” Sora said, clinging to Eutak’s back. “Shouldn’t you close it, in case… in case Darkrai comes?”

Zahir took a step towards them and Lugia followed. “The portal is what sustains the dungeon. If it closes, so does this place. We will simply have to outrun him.”

“No problem,” Eutak said, and with a few flaps of his wings, he was airborne.

“Stay within earshot, and shout if you see anything.”

The Xatu was already on his way, keeping just beneath the glass ceiling. The portal’s light did not shine far, and very soon the scouting duo were only visible by the fire of Sora’s tail, like a spark fading into the night. In their absence only the murmur and plash of the surrounding water remained, and the muted patter of their own footfalls.

“Now,” Zahir said, “you will tell me everything you know about Darkrai, his involvement with you, and how you ended up here.”

It was not a question, and Lugia looked up at him hesitantly. “Four days ago”–he paused to check that it was indeed four days; it seemed much longer–“Darkrai attempted to kill me. Are you familiar with Transmigration?”

Zahir motioned with his pincer for him to keep going.

“I Transmigrated, then… But I did not have time for preparations, and thus I awoke in the nearest town, Modrall, as the Pokémon whose mind had provided the least resistance. Ever since, I have been trying to return to my former self.”

“One question,” said Zahir coolly. “Has Ren been harmed by this?”

Lugia paused. They were in the dark now, with only the sickly orange of his firelight to illuminate the way. “I don’t believe so. Nor did Eutak when we first saw him.”

“And you are certain? You have much experience with Transmigration, do you?”

“Well, no, I do not, but I can reasonably assume…”

“Hm.”

Under the Scizor’s scrutiny, Lugia found himself concerned about the body that hosted him. As he did when he’d first awoken, he probed his consciousness and soon found the little presence at the fringes of his mind. It was silent, and he shivered. Was it possible – what if he had hurt Ren?

“You said you’d sent a letter to your mate,” the guildmaster said. “Do you have… allies? Any available assistance?”

The subtle stress on the word ‘mate’ piqued his curiosity, but the question soon occupied him. He had no idea what state Articuno was in, and it was not in the nature of the ice bird’s brothers to involve themselves. Beyond that, there was no one. Lugia shook his head.

Zahir scowled briefly. “What of Darkrai? What are his motives?”

“I don’t know,” Lugia said.

“Did you know him personally?”

Lugia stiffened at the quickness of the Scizor’s questions. “Not personally, no.”

Zahir stopped suddenly and fixed him with a glare. The gold of his irises glinted even in the dim light and Lugia flinched. “I would sincerely appreciate if you put more effort into this conversation,” the steel type said, his voice sharp. “I realize you Legendaries tend to cower from conflict and responsibility, but I am trying to get to the bottom of this, and seeing as it is your life that is at stake, I would have thought you would be trying to do the same.”

For a moment Lugia was still; the dark shape of Zahir’s imposing form made him shrink back – such bitterness! He could sense it – when the Scizor looked at him now, he didn’t see the young Quilava everyone else saw. What did he see, what views did he have of him and Legendaries that made him so hostile?

For a fleeting instant Lugia chastised himself for letting a mortal intimidate him, and yet he could not shake off the guilt that Zahir’s words had evoked.

“I have looked into it,” he said, though it sounded like a feeble protest and he averted his gaze. Perhaps he could have done more, but had he really been downright neglectful? “There was little I could accomplish as a Quilava. And I truly do not know Darkrai… All I know is that his kind are normally lonely, resentful, and only mischievously aggressive, and he could not have done this unassisted.”

Zahir straightened himself and resumed walking, and Lugia’s muscles released tension he didn’t know they’d been holding.

“What do you think of the theory that Darkrai used Jirachi to increase his powers?”

Lugia trotted after him, keeping a slightly larger distance between them. “It’s definitely plausible, especially if he obtained a Ho-Oh feather. That would enable him to extract even more potent wishes from Jirachi.”

“I see.” The Scizor bowed his head. “That would explain two of the victims, then. But what of the rest? They must be connected somehow.”

“I did not know any of the victims,” Lugia said. Zahir gave him a dissatisfied glance, and he bit his lip. “Genuinely, there is nothing more I can add. Cresselia is easy to explain, and I’m certain you do not need me to.”

“At present, that leaves Dialga, Palkia, Celebi, Arceus, and you.”

It was then, as he attempted to recall any relevant piece of information, that Lugia remembered the dream. “There is something odd, unrelated to the victims,” he said, and the Scizor angled his head receptively. “Back at the square, when Darkrai put me to sleep, he should have been able to kill me in the time before you woke me up. And the dream I had, it was very peculiar. There was no torment or suffering like I would have expected, and strangest of all, I saw Darkrai himself – he was chained, later destroyed, and he looked… frail. It was only after he disappeared that the nightmare truly began, but you woke me moments later.”

“How do you interpret this?”

Lugia looked at the sand as they walked. With everything that had been going on, he hadn’t had the opportunity to reflect. Given that Darkrai’s goal was to kill him and he could have done so, it didn’t make sense for the dream to be some sort of ruse. No, it seemed authentic, sincere, but the implications of that were astounding. “The only explanation I can surmise is that Darkrai is somehow being held or forced to act against his will,” he said. “But that is…”

Zahir, too, slowed slightly. “Is there even a Pokémon capable of controlling Darkrai like that? And if there is someone with that much power, why would they not carry out these plans themselves?”

Lugia’s thoughts were racing now, and he barely heard the Scizor. Darkrai being a pawn, if it were true, raised more questions than it answered. Why had he acted like himself, then; why maintain the image?

The Guildmaster clicked his pincers loudly. “Keep talking! Who could benefit from the deaths of these particular victims?”

Silence followed, and Lugia stared ahead as the room seemed to taper towards the far end. The gurgling had escalated into a rumble, and the splashing from the falling water now struck him constantly. It irritated him, and it irritated him that he had no answer to Zahir’s question. It was absurd - who could possibly benefit from the murders of so many Legendaries?

“What about the legend of Giratina?” the steel type went on, raising his voice to surpass the cascade. “Does it have any basis in reality?”

Grumbling, Lugia tensed his forelimbs. The water was beginning to hurt now; his sodden fur made him feel heavy. “It does, but how is it relevant?”

“Does the legend not say that Arceus called on the help of several Legendaries, Legendaries with particular powers? I am willing to entertain any theory, and it seems to me that the victims could fit the description.”

Presently the sand sloped downward, leaving them in front of a pool of rippling water. The wound on his side already burning from all the salt, he eyed the pool with disdain and turned to Zahir imploringly. Frowning visibly, the Scizor picked him up, sparing no effort on being gentle, and dropped him once they’d crossed. “Go on,” the steel type said.

Shaking his hide dry as best he could without aggravating his injury, Lugia checked for the distant light of Sora’s flame ahead of them. Then he considered Zahir’s question. He didn’t know which Legendaries had participated in the sealing other than his grandfather, but either way the inquiry was pointless. “It doesn’t matter – Giratina cannot escape the Reverse World.”

Zahir gave him another glare. “And you are absolutely certain of this, are you? Or is this the typical Legendary arrogance and close-mindedness speaking?”

Lugia ignored the barb. “The Reverse World barrier has held for thousands of years, and if Giratina could escape, she would not bother with this method of operation. Besides, there’s–”

“Guys!” echoed the voice of Eutak, and the two stopped. The flapping of the Xatu’s wings became audible over the rushing water, signaling his approach. Before long the bird appeared from behind the corner. He dipped towards the ground and Sora jumped off deftly, but Eutak was not quite so graceful and landed with a stumble and a subsequent fall onto his face.

“Oogh,” the psychic type groaned, straightening his mangled wings.

“Mr. Eutak!” Sora exclaimed, helping the Xatu get to his feet. “So sorry, that must’ve been tiring, carrying me around like that.”

Upon brushing the sand from his feathers, Eutak folded his wings. “Nonsense, it was but a leisurely glide!”

“What is it, why have you returned?” Zahir demanded, walking up to them and instantly sobering them.

“Ah, yes, er, a bit farther in, the – there’s a, um…” Eutak drew in his head and mumbled into his chest. “All right, yes, I can’t keep flying. Too tired.”

Zahir sighed. “No matter. We must continue regardless.”

The four did so, and Lugia was somewhat relieved to not be alone with Zahir. Of course, he wasn’t in the best mood for Sora either, who assumed her position by his side as expected.

“How are you doing?” she asked. Her eyes darted over him, and he knew she was looking for any sign of pain or weakness. And he probably could not hide the way he kept his injured side braced, but Lugia instead focused on the Monferno herself. She too was visibly holding back discomfort.

“I am well,” he said, dragging his heels.

The Monferno nodded with some skepticism. “That’s good. I’m sure we’ll be there soon.”

Lugia said nothing.

“Sora thinks you’re lying, that you’re in pain and worried about your mate,” Eutak whispered, giving the simian a wink.

“Hey, stop reading my mind,” the fire type protested, crossing her arms. “And I didn’t say it on purpose – I’m trying to be a little sensitive.”

“Aw, c’mon, aren’t you curious?” Lugia, who’d been trying to ignore them, felt Eutak tap him with his wing. “I sure am! Who’s the lucky mon?”

“I do not wish to talk about this,” Lugia said.

“Species, at least?”

“No.”

Eutak’s wings drooped, and he shuffled on with exaggerated petulance.

“Sorry about that,” Sora whispered.

Lugia did not offer any response. They probably meant well, but neither of their approaches eased his worry, and he didn’t think telling them of Articuno would help. Doubtlessly he’d only be barraged with more questions.

Minutes later into the dungeon, Lugia might not have conversed even if he’d wanted to. His feet sunk into the sand, forcing him into strenuous movements just to keep walking. The ceiling, as if breaking under the weight of the sea, let water drip through invisible cracks and shower down like rain. It chilled him and his teeth rattled; he focused all his strength and will into his strides but it felt as though he were slogging through quicksand. 

The next thing he knew, he could no longer feel the sand beneath his paws. For a moment this puzzled him, and he shifted only to realize that he was in Zahir’s arms again. But Lugia could not object, nor did he want to, and he let himself go limp. He let the cold and damp wash over him, and longed to escape the sensation and sleep. A pinch on his ear made him yelp, though, and his eyes opened wide.

“Stay awake,” said the Scizor above him.

Blinking, Lugia craned his head to look around. He must have nearly fainted before, because the environment was different now. The walls and ceiling had receded; the hall was vast enough that it was too dark to see the edges. The room was quiet, devoid of cascading water. The apparent dryness of Lugia’s surroundings invigorated him, and he jumped down from Zahir’s hold.

His teammates did not seem to be faring much better than him; Eutak trudged forward with staggered steps, weighed down by the Monferno sitting on his shoulders and leaning against his head. But presently Lugia turned his attention the room – as they progressed, he spotted the jagged shapes of crags in the walls, and a few stone slabs paved the sand floor.

He ran his paw over one of them and coughed to clear his throat. “I recognize this place.”

At this, Zahir and Eutak turned to him.

“I think we’re close,” Lugia said, and was compelled to quicken his pace in spite of his aching limbs.

The sand gave way fully to stone now, and the hall had narrowed enough for both walls to be visible. He knew them well; he’d seen the same earth, the same form of rock for years on end.

Sure enough, a white figure came into view. The body was prone, with the wings spread wide and the tail, with spurs as large as his head, curled around. The beast’s head lay slightly on the side, with the eyelids closed but the nostrils expanding and contracting in time with slow breaths.

For a moment Lugia was rooted to the spot. He could not tear his eyes away from the creature. The short and slickened feathers, white until they changed to blue at the belly, the massive back plates that lay flat against the spine… It was enormous, at least thrice his height just lying down, and he knew it was his own body, yet seeing it made him shudder.

“Wow,” Sora said, her eyes wide. Eutak’s beak was agape.

Zahir, meanwhile, clenched his pincers and stepped forwards. “Well then, here we are.”

There was an unspoken command in the Scizor’s tone, and Lugia approached the slumbering body. He placed his paw on the creature’s neck. The feathers were soft and smooth. He glanced back at his companions and his paw trembled – how would he even do this? What if he couldn’t?

Shaking his head, he pressed his paw more firmly against the feathers. He had to do this; he could not afford to fail. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and tried to remember what the first Transmigration had felt like. He’d felt like he was going to sleep, like his consciousness was slipping away. It was not difficult to recreate that. He focused on the pain in his side, the terrible cold, and the solace unconsciousness offered to provide. He imagined waking up as a Lugia, and thought of how he missed his wings and tail and the keenness of his mind, and as he did he felt himself rising. His feet were in the same place, but he felt himself growing detached, and for a second he thought he was observing himself from above.

Then he felt a sudden snap, and as a Lugia he opened his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

A great weight cumbered Lugia’s being; it joined him to the ground and he could not determine where his body ended and where the earth began. He could feel the waters above, like rolling clouds of thunder, breathing a cool mist past the translucent walls, a mist that drifted down to caress him. There was something in it, too – flurries of thought and emotion, three some distance away and one, subtler, by his head.

His head. He began to feel it, and at this realization he seemed to peel away from the earth and experience the ends of his form. His wings and legs were numb and he gave them a twitch. They felt heavy, and for a moment he tried to support himself with his forelegs but he had none, and he shifted his limbs awkwardly in an attempt to scrape himself off of the sand. At last the fingers of his wings found purchase and he rose. He rose high – his vision sharpened and he saw the ground recede farther and farther from view as he straightened. A moment of dizziness, and then the foreign sensations ceased. He was himself again. The body of a Lugia.

He looked down at the Pokémon in front of him. Sora, Eutak, and Zahir – they were all staring at him. He felt their awe, their curiosity; the suspicion, the bitterness. Lugia shut his eyes; his telepathy flung its arms about like an irate child, and his forehead wrinkled as he attempted to suppress the power. It was more demanding than he remembered, but he couldn’t expect to be unfatigued after the attack and several days of unconsciousness. Fortunately, save for those slight ailments and a creeping hunger, he was all right.

“Ren!” shouted Sora, and the Monferno scurried over to her brother, who lay motionless at Lugia’s feet. She hugged the Quilava and pressed her ear to his chest. With wide eyes, she turned her head up to Lugia, but only spoke after significant hesitation. “Why… Why won’t he wake up? Is something wrong?”

Lugia focused on the male fire type, who felt like much more like a foreign concern now. He’d already felt the presence of Ren’s soul, so he knew he was alive. “It will take some time for his consciousness to reassert itself,” he said. His voice was deep and, though not loud, resonant.

Having regained control over his telepathy, Lugia was able to do what he’d intended. With held breath, he recalled the sparkling ice of Mt. Avalanche, the grand, polished spires of Articuno’s perch, and Articuno himself; he extended the reaches of his mind through the mental connection they’d forged over the years. 

Then, pain like glass shards dragging across the inside of his head. He shuddered and his wings convulsed. Instantly a great ripple of wind cut forth, chipping and cracking the stone walls. Lugia had recovered within moments, but the Pokémon before him had been knocked to the ground. Water dripped from invisible fractures above.

He stepped forward in alarm, but upon becoming aware of himself, froze and pressed his wings firmly against his sides until his ribs hurt. He saw Eutak and Zahir get to their feet and Sora crawl quickly to Ren, from whom she’d been separated. His stomach churned and he hung his head. “I’m very sorry, that was an accident,” he said. “I tried to find Articuno, but…”

He realized they didn’t know who he was talking about and stopped.

“What was that?” gasped Sora, her fur on end from the shock.

She hadn’t grasped that he was responsible. Lugia kept silent and watched the sand beneath him. His heart pounded and a crushing shame bore down on him. How could he have lost control in front of them, and so soon?

“That’s what Lugia do.” 

Lugia flinched and faced Zahir. The Scizor, seemingly emboldened, went on. “They can spawn the fiercest of storms with little to no effort – isn’t that right?”

The words were cold and the accusation clear.

“Wow,” said Sora, once again checking to see if Ren had not stirred before turning her attention to the Legendary. “That sounds kind of scary.”

“Yeah, that’s got to keep the neighbors on their toes,” said Eutak with a chuckle. He patted the sand off of his feathers and, to Lugia’s amazement, walked back closer to him. Was even Eutak unable to piece things together? Or did he know but not care?

To see them both like this – it eased Lugia, but it was a false ease, for he knew their ignorance was fragile, to be shattered by the words that were so visibly on Zahir’s tongue. “I truly am sorry,” he said, uncertain of what to say but feeling the need to speak before the Scizor did. “I merely need to adjust… it won’t happen again.”

Zahir scoffed audibly. He remained otherwise silent, but his glare was unrelenting.

Eutak, meanwhile, observed Lugia with curiosity. “So, what’s next?”

The question lifted Lugia from the terrible anticipation, and his thoughts turned to the stab of pain he’d experienced earlier. Tentatively he reached out to Articuno again, but the strain was tangible and he stopped on the brink of that blinding pain. The Dream Eater and all the days unconscious must have crippled the advanced aspects of his telepathy.

That meant he was no closer to knowing whether Articuno was safe, and Lugia ground his teeth in frustration. He was supposed to be more useful in his rightful form!

He could still use his telepathy for other purposes, though, and realizing this, he let his mind wander once more, in the opposite direction, back towards town. He had not forgotten about Darkrai, and it was odd, ominous even, that there had been no trace of him. Even now, as Lugia searched the dungeon, the sensation of another soul was absent.

At least, the kind of soul he would expect. There was something else at the fringes of his reach, a dark mass without end. Peering into it felt like he was losing himself, like he was being drawn in, and the cold fingers of pain closed around him. He shook his head and opened his eyes.

The dread persisted, but Lugia found his companions awaiting some response from him.

Zahir shifted towards the room’s exit. “Let’s not waste any more time,” he said. “The dungeon should hold for at least another hour, but who knows what Darkrai has been up to.”

“I cannot locate him.” Lugia said.

Zahir and Eutak stared at him blankly. “What?” asked the Xatu. “Aren’t you, like, the strongest psychic?”

Lugia exhaled through his nostrils. The breath flattened Eutak’s crests and ruffled Zahir’s wings. “There are a few Pokémon whose minds are difficult to access, even for me. But you are correct, Darkrai should not be one of them.”

“Maybe he’s gone! Maybe–”

“Seems to support the idea of him being possessed,” Zahir interjected. “Either way, we can discuss this on the move. Let’s go.”

Zahir walked over to Sora and motioned for her to let go her brother, whom he picked up.

Eutak extended a wing towards Lugia. “Wouldn’t it be faster if Lugia flew us back?”

Though Lugia had predicted such an occurrence previously, hearing the proposal surprised him. Eutak clearly hadn’t been impacted by the accidental gust from earlier, but Sora, Lugia noted with a slight droop of his tail, seemed afraid.

Zahir, of course, dismissed the suggestion with a grunt. “Best not endanger ourselves further,” he said.

With that they set off. Zahir took the lead and Sora stayed by his side with renewed energy, frequently checking on the unconscious Quilava. Lugia, with the Guildmaster’s acerbic remarks fresh on his mind, kept far back, dragging his wings along the sand. Concern for Articuno and worry over Darkrai’s movements spurred him to rush ahead, but he would not let himself lose control again.

This was all the more important since Eutak had decided to walk with him, keeping pace with Lugia’s lumbering gait. The smaller bird’s company made Lugia slightly nervous, but regardless of whether it was ignorance or forgiveness that was responsible for Eutak’s positive outlook, it was somewhat reassuring to see somebody whose opinion of him hadn’t been changed by the transformation.

There was, at least, no physical trouble on the return trip. The spray of seawater that had hurt him so as a Quilava was now a welcome tickle on his feathers. It wasn’t long before he was soaked, and though the thoughts seemed untimely, it made him long to swim again.

He did not have the opportunity to ponder over that for long as he noticed Zahir and Sora stop. He stopped as well. The Monferno was pointing at Ren agitatedly, and Lugia heard her distraught cries. Zahir set the Quilava down onto the sand, and Eutak scurried forward.

Lugia quickened his pace as the three others huddled around the prone fire type. Lugia did not need to see Ren to know that his condition had worsened. Yet, a little telepathic prodding told him that the Quilava’s mental state hadn’t changed.

When Lugia caught up, Zahir wheeled around to face him. “Harmless, you say?” the Scizor snarled.

At last Lugia saw Ren. The fire type’s fur was clammy and he was shaking, but if he was cold, he was not responding to Sora’s flame-enveloped palms rubbing him; instead he swatted his paws about whilst letting out a consistent whine.

“Well?” Zahir snapped.

Lugia bit his lip. It was plain to see that the Quilava was not well – his fire patches no longer smoldered and were losing their color. “He needs to dry, he’s been exposed to this damp environment for far too long.”

The flames around Sora’s hands billowed and flared but soon dimmed into fizzling embers. The Monferno ignored this and kept rubbing, but it was evident she was also weakened.

“That’s not all, is it?” Zahir pressed. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

Lugia met his glare. “This is not my doing. He is suffering now because of where we are. Once we are out, we can worry about why he hasn’t awoken.”

Zahir said nothing, but Sora turned away from her brother. “How do we get out faster?” she asked in a wheeze. “Can… can you teleport?”

“No,” Lugia replied. The fingers of his wings tightened against the sand, and he hesitated. “I can fly.”

“Out of the question,” Zahir said.

“Wait a minute,” Eutak said, stepping towards the Scizor only to be halted by a beat of the steel type’s wings. “I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.”

Sora looked up at Lugia. “Could you fly us back? Please?” she asked. It sounded like a formal request.

Lugia nodded, and Zahir crossed his arms, shaking with frustration. “Very well,” he muttered, and approached the Legendary whilst snapping his pincers. Lugia did not need to read his mind to know his thoughts – _if you harm anyone, you will be sorry._

Swallowing, Lugia lowered himself to the ground. Just a minute ago he’d imagined swimming, he’d imagined flying, but now he squirmed at the idea. He stretched out his wing and Eutak skipped up it and perched on Lugia’s shoulder. Sora and Zahir, carrying Ren, ascended also, awkwardly finding their footing on Lugia’s back.

Though Lugia was significantly larger than them, their weight was not negligible, and he shifted uncomfortably. Experimentally he lifted himself up and rose slowly. “Hold on,” he called. Several limbs closed around his neck and a pair of talons dug into his hide. Taking a deep breath, Lugia stared ahead and tried to keep his quivering wings still. Never before had the simple act of taking off felt so stressful, and never before had it been so crucial that he get it right.

He gave his wings a flap, and then another. Sand and water scattered beneath him as he gained altitude. Lighter with confidence, he tucked in his feet and dipped forward, propelling himself ahead. The walls and the gradual ups and downs of the various rooms passed them quickly by, the wind like the rumble of a waterfall in his ears. He focused completely on the mechanism of his flight and the path before him, relatively narrow now and with little room for error.

The portal appeared, radiant and gold, like the sun behind parting clouds. By the time he’d registered it Lugia was already beneath it, and with a slant of his wings he shot upward into the light. His wings only just missed the portal’s edge and he came to a stop in midair, hovering there, dazed by the light and the warmth and the outside air fresh against his feathers. Then he swooped down to the beach, curved up, and decelerated with several sweeping wingbeats. He landed with a thud amidst the stirred sand and flattened himself against the earth.

Lugia exhaled deeply as Zahir and Sora slid off his back and Eutak fluttered down. The former spared no words as he walked a few paces away, laid Ren on the sand, and dug around in his bag. He produced numerous berries and forcefully fed the fire type, through chattering teeth.

Lugia watched for a moment, but after the air cleared he looked up to see two towers of black smoke in the sky, not one – and the second closer than the first, the one at the square. Darkrai must have moved, and in their direction.

“What do we do?” Sora said, pacing anxiously around her brother, who continued to shiver for a few more moments before becoming still.

Zahir stood back, observing the Quilava. Ren’s fire patches sizzled, and the Scizor nodded. “Looks like he’s getting better, at least.”

“But he’s still not waking up!”

Expectantly, Zahir turned to Lugia. The unabashed antagonism was beginning to be frustrating. “Ren will wake up,” Lugia said. “I do not know how long it will take, perhaps minutes or hours, but he isn’t in any danger. However”–here he softened his tone as he addressed Sora–“you should prepare yourself for the probability that he will be as he was before I possessed him. I am not certain of what that is, but he will not behave as I have made him behave these past days.”

Sora took Ren’s paw into her hands and kneaded the toes. She didn’t say anything, but the concerned expression hadn’t dissipated.

“Do you believe me?” Lugia asked reservedly.

The Monferno was silent long enough for Zahir to interject. He raised his pincer, no doubt about to make another snide comment, but it was then that he noticed the smoke trails, and his arms went limp. Sora and Eutak followed his gaze and gasped.

The Xatu took a step back. “What do we do now?”

Lugia frowned; peering into the smoke felt strangely like what he’d experienced during his telepathic search, and it hurt his head. The pain dwindled but persisted in the form of a discomforting, omnipresent pressure.

“Now, I shall leave,” he said laconically, straightening himself.

“What?” they said collectively.

Lugia paused for a moment, puzzled by their reaction. “The longer I stay here, the more I endanger the town,” he said.

“But you can’t just leave!” Sora said, stamping her foot urgently and gesturing towards the city behind her. “We have to help the Pokémon in the square, and the ones at… at wherever that explosion is!”

“My presence brings more danger than help. Darkrai is pursuing me, after all; that is the only reason he is here.”

Her eyes glazed over as she averted them, and at once Lugia knew he was less to her. It pained him to see it so plainly, but her morals were misplaced. Weren’t they? He knew leaving was best for the town, and he knew that if he wanted to stop Darkrai, he would most likely need the help of other Legendaries. And, he could no longer stand being complacent regarding Articuno’s whereabouts. He had to be sure he was safe.

Zahir merely offered an ambiguous scoff, and guided Sora towards the alley from which they’d arrived. With them facing away, Lugia realized this was goodbye, and despite everything, it saddened him that this would be how they parted.

Only Eutak remained standing by. “I still want to help you,” he said, though weariness compressed his voice into a wisp.

“There is nothing you can do for me,” Lugia said gently. “Your assistance is of more use here.”

“But…”

“Go.”

Lugia would have attempted to be more forceful, but at that moment pain bloomed in his head and he almost toppled forwards. He caught himself with his wings but the pain persisted; it magnified and hammered into him with almost physical strength. His tail lashed into the sand – he knew now what it was. He refused to go down as easily as last time.

Startled voices called out his name, and he remembered his companions. “Run,” he shouted, but the Pokémon in front of him just stood there, bewildered. “Darkrai’s here! Run!”

Finally, Zahir grabbed Ren under one arm, Sora under another, and dashed into the cover of the alley. Eutak followed after brief hesitation. “Don’t die!”

Once they’d vanished from view, everything was still, but Lugia knew he was not alone. He’d managed to hold back the Dark Void that assaulted him, but it was encroaching and biding its time like the vast sea behind the thin glass of the underwater dungeon. He focused instead on finding Darkrai, but his telepathy yielded nothing but the darkness all around. He growled – he should have expected the empowered Darkrai to be impervious to these basic tactics. “Show yourself!”

The shadows in the streets were motionless. Lugia tried to keep watch of every single one, and took a small step forward. “What have you done to Articuno?” he shouted. He wasn’t expecting a response, but the very silence was suffocating.

He stepped forward again, though he thought of fleeing. But where could he go? Even in the farthest depths of the sea, he hadn’t been safe. No, running was no longer an option. Fortified by his decision, or perhaps merely accepting his fate, he took another step.

Darkrai would attack eventually. How? Lugia could probably avoid any projectiles from his current distance. His psychic abilities would be useless, but at a range he could possibly hold his own.

The pain in his head struck anew. Reflexively he doubled over, and simultaneously he realized that this would be Darkrai’s opening. A great purple mass slammed into the psychic barrier he’d only just managed to raise, and the earth shuddered. The air cracked and the shield splintered. It had blocked the blow but the sheer force had rattled him and he staggered back.

Dense smog drifted forth in the explosion’s wake. It stung his eyes, and with a sweep of Lugia’s wings, a tremendous gust sliced through.

The fog parted slowly, reluctantly. Within it writhed and hissed black tendrils, like a raging fire, shrouding a single figure unswayed by the gale. Darkrai. The ghost was tattered, shredded; cloth and skin and smoke indistinguishable in a spectral shroud around topaz eyes, hauntingly sharp.

Darkrai shot forward, and in a panic Lugia brought up his wing. A slight sidestep saved him from the impact, but his wing flared with pain. Streaks of red followed Darkrai as he flew past, and in a fury Lugia spat an Aeroblast after him. It connected with a thunderous crack, rippling sand and sea alike.

The crack chilled his battle-boiled blood and Lugia looked up. The clouds dimmed, churning and swelling with unnatural acceleration, heralding the approaching storm. Fear took hold. What had he done? The town! He lifted his wings to fly, to run, but his injured wing was numb. He looked – it was steeped in crimson.

Remembering the fight, he turned to where Darkrai had been but he was gone.

The pain in Lugia’s head fused with that of his wing, and as it ate at him he realized – that was how the others had fallen. That was Darkrai’s augmented power. An unrelenting Dark Void to whittle away even the most resistant mind until only sleep was left.

“What do you want?” he yelled, backing towards the water. “Please, stop this senseless fighting!”

The wind picked up. In a flash of lightning, Darkrai was beside him, his claws aglow. But his arm retracted and he clutched at his head and screeched. Lugia drew back in surprise but did not waste the opportunity. He planted his feet and spawned a torrent of water that struck the dark type down, sending his wispy form fluttering onto the ground like a leaf.

Lugia crept forward. Darkrai lay there and thrashed about until, his hands still around his head, he stilled. The tatters and tendrils went limp and hung around him, threadlike. He drifted upward, dripping and smoldering.

“Damned Arceus, damned Darkrai,” he snarled. His voice was grating and incorporeal.

Lugia stopped in place. “You’re not…? Who are you?”

Darkrai’s body reanimated, again ablaze with billowing, shadowy fire. If he was affected by Lugia’s attacks it did not show, and once more his eyes shone a ghostly blue. 

The Dark Void returned abruptly, stabbing at Lugia’s mental defenses. Momentarily it overwhelmed him and he roared. Blindly he let loose another Hydro Pump; he heard the crash and the deluge, and the force of it pushed him back. Then a terrific explosion knocked him clear off the ground, and he felt no more.

The touch of water against the side of his face roused him. A wave rolled in and Lugia sputtered. He tried to get up from the sand but he could scarcely lift his limbs. His body felt aflame; he was charred and bleeding. 

Darkrai was beside him, once again convulsing and tearing at the plume on his head. It made no sense, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was that was ailing Darkrai, it hadn’t been enough. Lugia couldn’t fight anymore, and any moment now, Darkrai would recover.

With what strength he had left, Lugia turned his neck and gazed upon the sea, silvery and beautiful. Sparks danced upon its surface, skirted by the golden sun floating effortlessly on the surface. A tingling warmth passed through him, and for a moment he thought that was it. That’s what death was like. Deliriously, he dragged himself towards the corona, the light to take away the pain.

He reached out at it with his wing, but his wing fell through and hung down limply. Then he remembered – it was the portal to the undersea dungeon. It was still there. Its warmth disappeared like a dream, but it gave him a sudden clarity. There was one more chance. He pulled himself over the edge.

He landed in a heap, dazed but conscious. Struggling to stay awake, he dragged himself over the seafloor. If Darkrai followed him and he could stall for long enough, then…

He got to the first hallway and propped himself up against a glassy wall. He looked back to see Darkrai hovering beneath the halo, shaping violet energy between his palms. Lugia let himself fall past the corner, narrowly avoiding a blast that cracked the glass wall. Water gushed in from beyond.

He’d dodged the attack, but he could no longer move at all. He could only watch as the cracks in the wall snaked outward. The dungeon’s time was nearing its end. So, too, was Lugia’s – the pain had been replaced by a tingling velvet, and his eyelids were heavy. But he needed more time!

Darkrai materialized in his field of view. Lugia had expected a face of hatred and malice but the dark type’s expression was contorted with anguish. He bobbed up and down as if struggling to stay afloat.

“Why?” Lugia managed to say.

Darkrai said nothing. Or perhaps he did speak; Lugia might not have been able to tell. His hearing was muffled now, and his vision started to give way.

From the darkness came a burst of green, searing Lugia’s retinas and wrenching him from his stupor. The Dark Void’s grip loosened. His hearing returned with the growl of Darkrai, who faltered and sunk lower to the ground. His back was slashed through, dripping a viscous black liquid. Behind him stood Zahir. And behind him, Eutak.

Trembling fitfully, Darkrai corrected his stance.

At first Lugia couldn’t comprehend the sight before him, but then terrible fear overcame him. “What are you doing? You can’t kill him!” he cried. “Get out!”

Zahir had already advanced on the dark type and slashed again. In the midst of the Scizor rearing for another strike, Darkrai swiveled around smoothly. Without so much as a sound or gesture, Zahir stumbled forward and fell. He didn’t get up.

Lugia gnashed his teeth and tried again to move, but was met with a wall of pain. He looked insistently at Eutak, who gaped at the inert Guildmaster in shock. “ _Go!_ ”

Darkrai faced the Xatu and made no action. Rigid and bristling, Eutak stood there. He let out a whimper and took a shaky step. At the slight raise of Darkrai’s arm, Eutak squawked and disappeared in a blink.

With an almost bemused calmness, Darkrai turned back to Lugia.

Lugia’s attention was focused elsewhere. His companions may have failed to inflict any damage, but they did buy time. Moreover, while his mind wasn’t being suffocated by the Dark Void, Lugia could use his telepathy. He searched for Eutak. The Xatu had managed to teleport out onto the beach but was unconscious – the strain had been too much.

Next to Eutak, though, he sensed a familiar Monferno.

Presently, the lightness returned to Lugia’s being, and he knew Darkrai was reasserting the Dark Void. Still, he had enough resistance within him to endure a little longer and to reach out to the soul on the beach.

_Sora!_ he told her. He felt her confusion and fear, but there was no time to spare on emotion. _Eutak was carrying Zahir’s bag. Take out the Entercards._

Within moments her voice was in his head, slurred and racing. _Is that… Lugia? I – what happened? Where’s the Guildmaster? Eutak’s out cold! I was supposed to wait and if things went bad Eutak would teleport and–_

Lugia silenced her. _Listen. You must do this. Take out the Entercards._ He remembered what they looked like, arranged on the sand, and shared the memory with her. _Set them up like that to close the dungeon. Hurry._

_But, but what about the Guildmaster? What about you? Are you going to–_

Her words trailed off into the murmurs of the water, gurgling down the walls. Then even those whispers faded into a distant hum. The blanket of sleep fell upon him again, and this time he let it – the rest was up to her. As his eyelids drooped shut, he caught one last glimpse of the prone Zahir. _I’m sorry._

He closed his eyes and slept.

In an instant, or perhaps minutes later, he became aware of himself again – it was hard to tell with dreams. He stood in a world of white, a white so pure that its only blemishes were the murky imperfections of his own vision. In fact, he could barely see his white feathers, and appeared to himself as an absurd assortment of detached blue shapes.

He took a breath. This was the barest form of dreamspace, which suggested that somebody had created it. Did that mean the plan had worked? The dungeon had collapsed and taken Darkrai down with it?

“I am not dead yet,” said a voice.

Lugia turned around. There he was, as if he’d always been there – Darkrai.

Yet, something about Darkrai’s appearance kept Lugia from panic. The ghost’s tattered form was no longer wildly unkempt, and, saturated by the brilliance of the place, he was purged from the mystical and ominous aura that had always seemed to surround him.

“The dungeon is collapsing,” Darkrai continued, his voice raspy yet gentle. “Soon, I will perish. But time passes differently here, as you know.”

The news meant little to Lugia.

“I… I cannot hope to apologize.” His hands pressed together, Darkrai directed his gaze at the floor. “I have done so much wrong. However, the end is near, and though they do not justify my actions, there are things you should know.”

“Were you possessed?” Lugia demanded.

“Hmm… That is the common way to put it, but it is not quite accurate. It was rather more like you and the Quilava – Transmigration, you call it. Except unlike the Quilava, I volunteered.” Darkrai paused and shifted. “You must understand… I was not in a sound state. For years, I was deprived of sustenance, and for what little I had, I was hated and feared. That is the fate of my kind, and it drove me to insanity and filled me with spite. That is why, when I began hearing a voice offering me power and revenge, I accepted. That voice, I later discovered, was Giratina.”

The name had Lugia speechless. Before he could think to argue, Darkrai spoke. 

“Giratina the First, I should say. The same Giratina banished centuries ago. I was just as incredulous as you – she’s survived for thousands of years! But it was her. She told me, over those years she’s been trying to escape, attempting to find the barrier’s weaknesses. After millennia, she found only one – the barrier was perfect as a prison for her body, but not for her mind. Eventually, she managed to exert her influence onto the outside world.

“She was most determined to undo the spell that kept the barrier in place. I have learned much about it. You may not have considered this, but if the barrier is not physical, how has it remained so powerful, centuries after the deaths of its creators? There must exist a continuous force to maintain it. That force, Giratina theorized, began in the casters of the spell, and was passed on to their offspring, and then their offspring, and so on. Thus, she searched for the descendants of the Legendaries who had participated. There were not many. You are one of them, and now unfortunately the last of this generation.”

The onslaught of information made Lugia light-headed, but Darkrai did not stop.

“I say unfortunately because… ah, I shall get to that. Giratina could not enact her plans without a host, since she could not physically leave the Reverse World. She offered to Transmigrate into me and give me the power I desired. I accepted. It is a difficult experience to describe… I was able to control my words and actions, but only within the direction that Giratina led me. First we killed Ho-Oh. We took one of his feathers, which we used on Jirachi to force him to grant us even further power. Next we killed Cresselia.” He hung his head. “As part of honoring Giratina’s promise to me, you understand. We then proceeded to the descendants.

“They tried to fight back, but… as you have experienced, my Dark Void’s power had become absolute. One by one they fell. But Arceus was different. He did not attempt to fight back, instead somehow he managed to reach into my mind, to change me. The rage that had consumed me disappeared, and I saw what I’d allowed to happen. It disgusted me, but I was not able to expel Giratina. Seeing my revolt, she took complete control over me, subduing my consciousness. However, by Dream Eating you she gave me the opportunity to communicate. It was not enough, but since then I found myself being able to fight back and regain control, if only for moments at a time. She proceeded to battle you, and… here we are.”

The dark type inhaled deeply, then sighed. Flinching, Lugia realized the floor was covered with water. Waterfalls cascaded from above. There was so much to process, he could think of nothing to say.

“We are running out of time,” Darkrai said somberly. “There is one last thing I must tell you. I discovered, in my retaliation against Giratina’s consciousness, where such an old and miserable creature found the incentive to realize plans of this scale after all these years. It is not mere bitterness, it is perhaps something worse. Two months ago, Giratina laid an egg.”

Lugia blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yes - without partner, she was able to have child.”

The water thundered down with rising clamor. The walls were no longer white but bleeding darkness. “How long until it hatches?”

“Ten months.” Darkrai glanced forlornly at a stream of water that crashed down beside him. “It may die without a parent, or it may not. Or perhaps Giratina’s theory about the barrier was wrong. The situation is unprecedented and thus unpredictable. However, as the last of the descendants, you should be aware of the risk.”

The last descendant. The title left Lugia with unease, but then he remembered. “Articuno!” he exclaimed. “Is he alive?”

Darkrai gave him a faint smile. “Yes. Through your dreams, I knew of your relation to him, and knew that he would be the first to learn of your whereabouts. That is why we monitored his dreams, and through them kept him weakened so that he would not interfere. There should be no lasting harm.”

The water level had not risen, but the sky gushed more and more and had turned almost to black. Darkrai was shrouded in shadow again, and he trembled. “I… I apologize for the lives I have taken, for the pain I caused everyone,” he said. His voice accelerated and wavered. “I would give anything to take it back.”

Lugia didn’t know what to say. He felt that he should comfort him, but at the same time that he shouldn’t. In the darkness, the ghost was no longer visible.

“My punishment, at least, is swift. You may survive – you must! And I know my words mean nothing, and they don’t deserve to. But I hope I have done something right. I hope I shall leave at least one Pokémon in this world who will remember me without loathing. Goodbye.”

The voice was gone. Nothing remained but the chaos around him. Lugia did not feel fear or panic; he did not think of the words spoken or the world outside. He waited.

Soon, the dream had passed, and there was nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

A cool breeze blew north from the Surrounded Sea. Chilled by the waters, it met the damp shore as a sharp gale. It stalled by the esplanade, whirling about the puddles on the pavement and combing through the few bare shrubs and trees. The puddles continued on through the streets like footsteps, and the breeze followed. It whistled through the moldy house walls, hovered demurely by heaps of wooden planks and beams, and prodded at the rubble on the roads, presently being swept aside by ashen-faced Pokémon with brooms.

The breeze cruised on through the main street, circled the crossroad with the memorial tablet and the rows of now decapitated flowers, and sailed on to the Guild. It brushed a lone leaf from the face of the Nidoking statue, and that leaf fluttered on past several guild buildings until it was whisked between the pillars of a tall pavilion. There the breeze died, and the leaf fell lazily onto the nose of Lugia.

He exhaled – the leaf was sent spiraling away – and he opened his eyes. The smooth stone above him was incongruous with that of the underwater dungeon, and he knew he was somewhere else. For a moment he let that sink in – he hadn’t been sure if he’d wake up again at all. Somebody must have rescued him from the seafloor. What of Darkrai, then? He may have died, but what about Giratina? And what of his companions, and the town?

Seeking answers, Lugia sat up, with surprising ease. His injured wing still ached and probably wasn’t fit to fly, but it was bandaged, and the rest of his wounds were gone.

Somewhere outside, the consciousness of Aves stirred and retreated, but Lugia paid it little attention. Judging by his condition, he’d been asleep for several days. There was much he could have missed in that time.

The scent of wet grass reached him at last, and he peered through the cracked pillars. Grass and dirt were strewn about chunks of wood and stone; pieces of roofs and houses. The air was terribly humid. The fight with Darkrai had caused a storm after all.

The cold weight of self-pity and loathing descended upon Lugia. He’d done it again. The same town. He wanted nothing more than to be angry with himself, to wallow in the numbing emotion and unfairness of it all because he deserved the grief, but he knew he could not. He could not be sidetracked, not while so many questions were unaddressed.

He bit his lip. The thought of walking out into town made him queasy, but at that moment he noticed several Pokémon approaching, and he knew he would not have to wait long to be confronted with reality. He steeled himself and rose from the straw bed that had been prepared for him.

A Swampert entered the pavilion, followed by Harlow and Sabre. The latter two were fully recovered from the attacks they’d taken, from what Lugia could tell. The Swampert was unfamiliar, though he carried himself with importance, and his movements were restricted as though he wanted to lash forth at each stride. None of them had anything even resembling a smile on their face.

“Harlow,” Lugia said. He swallowed, trying to think of what to say first. “Was Darkrai found?”

The Swampert approached. “I’ll be asking the questions, Lugia the First of the Surrounded Sea.”

Lugia focused on him. The fact that he knew his name meant that Harlow had told him, and probably everything else she knew. How much had been said of him during his sleep?

“I am Mernash, head of law enforcement here in Modrall,” the Swampert said, his whiskers and cephalic fins exaggerating his frown. Dubiously, Lugia waited for more information. The creases on Mernash’s face deepened. “Are you aware of how much destruction you have caused?”

The glimpses he’d gotten of outside hadn’t told Lugia much about the extent of the storm’s damage, but he nodded. He knew what his first storm had caused. An apology would have been hollow, and ultimately insignificant.

“And? Anything you have to say in your defense?”

Lugia stayed quiet. He could have tried justifying himself, explaining how he had to stop Darkrai and Giratina, but he didn’t think it would matter.

“Nothing?” Mernash crossed his arms and flared his nostrils. “Dozens of Pokémon have lost their homes – property damage through the roof. Zahir, his family and all those who perished in the Great Hurricane three years ago… I understand their deaths were your doing as well. But how can we hold you accountable? How can we ensure it won’t happen again?”

“It will not happen again,” Lugia said, though his words were a mumble. He hadn’t known Zahir’s family had died in the Great Hurricane.

“As you are a nonresident Legendary, our laws don’t apply to you. But by Arceus, I wish they did. I wish you could be thrown into prison and put to work for the land. Alas, whilst you have brought tragedy to this town not once but twice, we do not have the power to hold you responsible.” The Swampert’s body heaved with his impassioned breaths, and after a pause he jabbed a paw in Lugia’s direction. “We can try, though, and thus I am here to tell you this. You are not welcome here, and if you are seen again you will be treated as an enemy.”

The Swampert spun around and marched off. The resounding silence left Lugia feeling exposed, and he brought the fingers of his wings together, only to separate them when he noticed Harlow and Sabre still standing there. Their unreadable expressions offered no sympathy. “Darkrai is dead, then?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” the Nidoqueen replied. “A rescue team brought up the bodies. And you.”

“They have my thanks,” Lugia said hesitantly, lifting his bandaged wing. The confirmation of Darkrai’s death was somewhat reassuring, but it wasn’t enough. “I should inform you… I am not certain the danger is over. I must look into it.”

“By all means. Just… far away from here.”

Lugia’s tail sagged onto the floor. “Was the storm severe?”

“Less than your last, but enough.”

The terse answers made Lugia uneasy. “How are Sora, Eutak, and Ren?”

Harlow gave a sardonic scoff. “Eutak’s powers have been impaired for a while, but he’ll be fine.”

Lugia nodded hopefully.

“Ren’s woken up. His condition seems to be as it was before you arrived. And Sora is…” Harlow clenched her paws into fists. “She is not well.” Lugia’s eyes widened, and she stepped forward aggressively. “You’re completely oblivious! She’s just a child! Do you have any idea what she went through? By following your orders, she killed Zahir. His funeral is today. She has to live with that! And after the dungeon closed? She was alone, with an unconscious Ren and Eutak and an incoming hurricane. She had to drag them, by herself, to shelter! It’s a miracle that they survived!”

“I… Believe me, I wish she had not experienced any of it,” Lugia said, hanging his head. “But there hadn’t been any other option. Were it not for her, I would be dead, and…”

“And what do you think is going to have the lasting impact on her? The fact that she saved you, perhaps even the entire town, or that she killed her guildmaster?”

Again Lugia was silent. Harlow’s eyes were glazed over with tears.

“How is she, then?” he asked.

With a sigh, the Nidoqueen let her shoulders slump. “She barely eats, and she can’t sleep. She refuses to leave her brother even for a minute.”

Lugia ground his teeth and tensed his wings. He’d assumed since Sora hadn’t been in immediate danger, she would be fine. Harlow was right, he was oblivious. To think that he’d caused Sora so much grief, and he hadn’t even considered it… This was a Pokémon who’d known next to nothing about him, yet in the end she’d trusted him and stayed by his side.

Zahir had done it, too. Despite his bitterness towards him, bitterness made all the more clear by the deaths of the Scizor’s family three years ago, Zahir had returned to fight for him. If his only concern had been stopping Darkrai or saving the town, the Scizor would have closed the dungeon himself, even with Lugia in it. No, instead, Zahir had jumped in. He’d died trying to save him.

_Why?_ thought Lugia to himself, with a welling anger that made him press the fingers of his wings painfully against the floor. Why would they risk themselves like that for his sake? Was it some innate morality, urging them to help those in need, regardless of the consequences? This was entirely contrary to the way of Legendaries, who abided primarily by reason alone. They knew, and he knew, that sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, that the suffering of some was necessary for the welfare of others – but why, then, did actions like Zahir’s and Sora’s seem so noble? Why did they make him feel so inadequate, so wrong?

Virtues of integrity and loyalty – that’s what it was. Integrity and loyalty that transcended concern for the self. Lugia’s heart pounded at the notion, and finally, he emerged from his reflection. “I would like to see them,” he said.

“Absolutely not,” Harlow said, so firmly that Lugia did not think to question her authority.

“Please, I think I can help them,” Lugia insisted. “After everything that they’ve done for me, I cannot leave without at least attempting to give something in return.”

“ _You_ want to help?”

“I do.”

Harlow turned to Sabre, who shrugged. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘help?’”

Here Lugia paused to think of how best to respond. Ideally he would be able to act in secrecy, but there was no getting around Harlow without answering her. Yet he knew, with increasing resolve, that he had to see his companions. “I am an adept psychic,” he said, leaning forward as if to whisper. To merely voice his intentions felt scandalous. “I cannot be certain until I learn more, but if Ren’s condition is primarily psychological rather than biological…”

He didn’t finish, and he didn’t have to. Harlow went rigid, and the quills on Sabre’s back rattled as he shifted backwards.

“I shall leave afterwards,” Lugia added.

“A-All right,” Harlow said, breathless. Her shoulders and tail stiff, she staggered back to the doorway. “I’ll… I’ll tell them to meet you. In front of the Guild – their past one.”

Lugia watched her leave, and excitement bubbled within his body, urging him to move. It was absurd that he felt so eager when his actions would almost certainly be denounced amongst Legendaries. Yet, the idea of making his companions happy was elating.

This elation receded somewhat when he noticed Sabre’s pensive stance. Lugia calmed his breathing. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, no,” the Sandslash said, scratching his chin. “Arceus knows that boy deserves better, but… is this right?”

Lugia folded in his wings and pressed his lips together. “I only wish to make amends for what I have done. Is that not ‘right’?”

Sabre raised his palms. “No offense intended, big chap, but nothing about this is right. These events have forced the meeting of worlds that should not meet.”

Briefly Lugia wondered whether he should entertain this conversation. He didn’t want to miss seeing Ren and the others, and the Sandslash’s philosophizing was mildly frustrating – would Sabre protest to offers of help after Mernash’s speech on accountability? “I did not choose for this ‘meeting’ to happen,” Lugia said shortly. “It happened, and I wish to remedy it.”

For a few seconds the ground type watched him, and then he grinned. “You’re young, aren’t you?”

“I am not young. I am older than you.”

The Sandslash gave a hearty chuckle. “Oh, yes, I am in the winter of my life! But that’s hardly an impressive age for you, is it? It seems to me that in terms of your species, you’re a child!”

Hearing Sabre call him a child so insouciantly made Lugia ruffle his feathers. The Sandslash only laughed further. “I don’t mean anything by it, of course!” he said between strings of wheezes and guffaws. “In fact I think what you offered to do for Ren is wonderful! I hope you manage it.”

Lugia exhaled audibly and, finding no more value in staying, stepped towards the doorway. “Goodbye, Sabre.”

“Farewell!” the ground type called after him.

Upon leaving the building, Lugia took a deep breath of the sea air and looked around. The guild architecture was easily recognizable, with the grand stone buildings and the network of little lawns and paths that connected them. There amongst them, he could not quite see the rest of town, but what he could see was enough to sober him. Tentatively, he pressed the palm of his healthy wing against the path, and then retracted his wing. It was muddied and carried leaves, twigs, dirt, and gravel. All of Modrall had lost pieces of itself.

At a slow pace, Lugia trod down the path. A signpost saying “Do Not Enter” stood sentinel. Nobody was around.

When Lugia reached the Nidoking statue, he felt as though he’d once more stepped outside. The cloud-dimmed sunlight shone brighter there, and in the open space the wind whirled with freedom. The debris had been cleared from the main road, but signs of the storm remained. Several Pokémon were tending a patch of grass, ripped from the earth like paper in the wake of a fallen tree. Presently one of the Pokémon pointed at Lugia, and the others turned to look. They stared, petrified.

Lugia kept low as he passed them. He passed many other Pokémon on his way, and he tried to ignore their gazes – some awed, some afraid – and their whispers. What he could not ignore was the collapsed houses, some dead and abandoned and others being resurrected by crews of Pokémon and skeletons of scaffolding. Nor could he ignore the cracks in the road and the yet unremoved uprooted trees. Pokémon were often nearby, and Lugia wondered if they knew it was his doing. They probably didn’t, but the idea made him shudder, and he thought optimistically of seeing his companions again.

Sora and Ren were already waiting outside the Guild for the Young and Challenged. The two stood just outside the doorway, side by side and with Sora’s arm around her brother. Harlow stood behind them, obscured in shadow.

“Hello,” Lugia said, descending to all fours a small distance away from them. He glanced at the guild – save for some smashed windows and scraped paint, it was in good condition.

Sora shuffled forward, pulling along an unresponsive Quilava. Ren looked at him with wide eyes, then lazily took in the surrounding area as though he hadn’t seen him at all.

“Thank you for helping me,” Lugia began. His words felt detached from so high up, so he tried to match their eye level as best he could. Proximity only made him more aware of the gloom that emanated from the Monferno. “You saved my life, and the lives of many others. I won’t forget it.”

She gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

“You’re returning to your former guild, then?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

Lugia nodded encouragingly.

“It’s… it’s a better place for Ren and me.”

Smiling, Lugia turned to the Quilava. Sora pulled him closer to her. It was then that, disregarding much of his upbringing and misgivings, Lugia reached into the male fire type’s mind.

Usually when Lugia communicated to others with telepathy, he constructed his own voice within their mind – it was more apparent as interpersonal communication that way. But it was much more difficult to manipulate a mind with a foreign voice; the power of thoughts that one perceived as their own was much greater. Indeed, little could change a Pokémon’s mind better than a self-achieved realization. This kind of manipulation wasn’t right, of course, especially with mortals who were less likely to suspect an external presence, but Lugia had already decided – in this one instance, he would make an exception. His conscience wouldn’t bear it if he’d simply left without giving something back.

Concentrating on the task at hand, Lugia let himself sink into the Quilava’s consciousness. It was cold and dark, shrouded in a sky of thunderous whispers. Through that sky, Lugia drifted until he felt Ren’s spirit, huddled and dim. Lugia had the sensation of merging with it, and…

“What are you doing?” said Sora, putting herself in front of her brother.

Lugia blinked and drew back. Behind the two children, Harlow moved in the shadows.

Before either of them could say anything, a squeaky voice piped up from behind Sora. “W-Who is that?”

With a gasp, Sora jumped aside, and Lugia found himself face to face with Ren, who looked at him curiously. The Quilava’s ears were flattened and his feet primed to run, but nonetheless he stood upright, and there was a definite alertness to his expression that had not been there previously.

As to Ren’s question – Lugia bowed, then raised his wing. “Goodbye,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”

The Monferno opened her mouth to respond, but she turned to Ren when he spoke. “Who is that, Sora?”

Lugia had turned around and begun his walk to shore, but he could still hear their conversation.

“Ren, how… how are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. I’m a little hungry.”

“But… what happened? Did you feel anything just now?”

“No… well… I feel kind of sleepy, like I just woke up.”

“Harlow, Harlow! Did you hear that?”

Their voices faded into the wind. It was possible that Lugia would never see them again, but he was content to leave them as he did. Even as he carried on past an increasing number of collapsed houses and rubble, a certain lightness eased his step. He hadn’t been sure how he would feel, walking away from his time as a mortal, but now all he felt was readiness – readiness for whatever would come next.

There was no lack of work ahead of him; much had yet to be done regarding the events that had taken place. He needed to investigate what happened to Giratina, and learn more about the state of the barrier. Jirachi may have still been alive, too.

Without noticing it, Lugia stopped, only now appreciating the amount of responsibility that had fallen upon him. After the deaths of so many Legendaries, there were few Pokémon involved in the matter, and fewer who would take action. He could no longer hide away under the sea – but, as he stood on the esplanade and gazed out into the azure waters, he knew he did not want to. Besides, he needed to see Articuno. And even before that, there was still…

“Lugia!” 

He turned around leisurely. “Hmm?”

Panting, Eutak came a stop before him. After a moment of catching his breath, he straightened himself and outstretched a wing theatrically. “You weren’t going to leave without seeing _me_ , were you?”

“Absolutely not,” Lugia said, pointedly checking over his shoulder to see how close he was to the sea. “I merely predicted you would seek me out.”

“Oh,” the Xatu said. He lowered his wing, and seemed at a loss.

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know, Sora and Ren have gone back to the Little Guild, so I guess Team Sorentak isn’t happening… I don’t think I’m going to be sticking around the Hill of Beginnings, though! I think I’ll go back to the Guild solo, or maybe look to join a team.” Eutak stared for a while in the Guild’s direction. “And you? What are you going to do?”

Lugia thought of telling him the truth, about Giratina and the work he had ahead of him, but he decided against it. Best not drag anyone along with him this time if he could help it. “I cannot say – wherever time takes me.”

“Heh, maybe it’ll take you for a visit! Well, you’re kind of banished so maybe not here…”

The conversation darkened at that reminder, and Lugia’s tail fell. That Eutak had been informed was not surprising, but it also meant that he probably knew about the storm and the Hurricane. Yet the Xatu was as cheerful as ever. Lugia didn’t want to change that by pursuing the topic, so he shook his head and made to leave. “Check on Ren and Sora once in a while, won’t you?”

“Of course!”

“And… thank you for everything. You and the others may well have saved the world.”

“That’s what I keep saying!” The Xatu sighed dramatically. “Everybody’s all, Lugia this, Lugia that. But you were getting your feathers plucked until we came!”

Lugia snorted in amusement. “Indeed. A hero like you will make it far in the Guild.”

At this, Eutak beamed and he fluttered his wings.

“Goodbye, Eutak.”

The Xatu stood as if to attention and waved. “It was an honor to meet you! Goodbye!”

The town disappeared from view as Lugia faced the sea. It beckoned to him, and he walked to the water over the cool sand. It seemed surreal to him, to simply swim away – it felt a little like when he’d left home, preparing to leave the familiar behind and enter a vast, cold ocean. But this time he knew where to go; he knew his time in Modrall was over and he was needed elsewhere. And so he swam.


	13. Chapter 13

When he lost himself in his thoughts, sitting close enough to the edge at the peak of Mt. Avalanche often gave Lugia the sensation of flying. The wind gusted past the mountaintop, ruffling his feathers and brushing flurries of snow off the summit. Beneath him was a steep fall into the sea, but if he kept his gaze directed into the distance as he always did, he did not see the earth on which he stood, and he may as well have been soaring through the clouds.

There were no clouds that day, though, and Lugia could see all the way to where land and sky touched.

“Lugia.”

Articuno stood behind him, his own wings and tail fluttering in the wind. Up there in the brilliant light, Articuno’s feathers gleamed. It was a sight Lugia had yet to be tired of.

“I’m heading off now,” the ice type said.

“Right,” Lugia replied, folding in his wings and shifting to the side to make room for his mate. “Say hello to your brothers for me.”

The ice bird joined him at the ledge, and scanned the horizon for where Lugia had been looking. “Have you found anything?”

“I, er…” Lugia drew lines in the snow under him sheepishly.

Articuno shook his head with a smile. “You were observing the mortals, weren’t you?”

The lines Lugia was drawing turned into circles. Articuno chuckled and stroked Lugia’s wing, at which Lugia’s fidgeting stopped. “You know I do not disapprove, though I thought you said you would be searching for Mew. Besides, was it not only yesterday that you checked on them last?”

“Yes, but… they qualified for a rank upgrade, and I was curious to see whether they succeeded.”

“Did they?”

“They did.”

Articuno opened his beak but said nothing, and responded instead with a nod. Lugia understood. Even though Articuno had heard him recount everything that had happened, it was to be expected that the he wouldn’t be as interested in keeping up with events in Modrall. Lugia didn’t blame or resent him for that, in fact he could only be grateful for how receptive Articuno was. Certainly, most Legendaries would have raised their eyebrows at Lugia’s surveillance of the town.

“You mustn’t keep your brothers waiting,” Lugia said, nudging his mate forward with his tail. “I have seen how impatient they can be.”

“Ah, I am sorry once again about Zapdos,” Articuno said, and though he tried covering his face with his wing, Lugia could still see him wince. “Even he is not normally so rude.”

“He was worried about you. I do not hold it against him.”

“I do,” Articuno grumbled. “In any event, I shall be going. Try to focus on finding Mew, all right?”

“I will.”

They pressed their foreheads together, and Articuno nuzzled him before drawing back and extending his wings. With one final wave, the ice bird swooped down from the overhang and glided over the sea. Lugia watched him until the blue of his feathers was lost against the sky.

Then Lugia’s thoughts returned to his former teammates. Naturally, when he’d first decided to check on them, Articuno had been hesitant, concerned that he would be too attached. Whatever too attached meant, Lugia didn’t think he was there – but how could he simply forget the Pokémon with whom he’d shared one of the most significant experiences of his life? Even a month after he’d left Modrall, he remembered vividly the sensation of waking up in the Guild, walking around town, and going about the missions. That was a time of the past, obviously, but the memory forged an indelible connection to the town. It had, for however short a time, been a home.

Furthermore, it pleased him to see that his parting gesture to Ren had had the effects he’d intended. With her brother more lucid and vocal, Sora spent more time with him, and together they’d trained until the Quilava gained a little strength and was able to use moves those of his age would be expected to. It wasn’t long before they’d decided that they were ready for more than the Guild for the Young and Challenged could offer, and so they invited Eutak – who had been working alone – and applied as a new team, Team Sorentak, to Modrall Guild. A new guildmaster had been anointed, a Jolteon by the name of Thorin, and apparently he was no less strict than Zahir. Sorentak had been admitted at the meager rank of C-, but today they reached B- and it seemed they were poised to keep rising. They were happy, as far as Lugia could tell.

The town would probably be safe from Legendary attack for many years to come. After much research and conversation with surviving Legendaries, Jirachi included, Lugia determined that Giratina the First of the Reverse World was most likely dead. There was always the possibility of an exception, but just as Lugia would have died if his Quilava host had, Giratina perished alongside Darkrai. The ability to Transmigrate, after all, was reliant on the body just as much as the mind. Darkrai’s death had meant her own.

There was still the question of Giratina the Second, whether the egg would hatch and the hatchling survive. If it survived, how would it fare without a parent? Would the barrier hold it, and was it even right to imprison an innocent youth out of fear of the havoc it might wreak in the future? Lugia had been given these questions by other Legendaries, but no answers, and he had the sinking feeling that the situation was his to handle.

That is why he had decided to search for Mew, an elusive but powerful Legendary who, if the stories were to be believed, would be able to provide information on the Reverse World. Unfortunately, Mew was said to be even harder to locate than Arceus, but that wouldn’t stop Lugia from trying. He had, at least, several months to spare.

Sighing, Lugia dangled one of his wings over the edge and let his gaze fall. As he did, he noticed the talon prints in the snow beside him, and he smiled. It was easy to feel overwhelmed, but he knew he wasn’t alone, not by any means. He lived with Articuno now – in fact, Lugia had never gone back to his old home in the Surrounded Sea Rift; he’d traveled directly to Mt. Avalanche upon leaving Modrall. That was when Zapdos had exploded at him for failing to protect Articuno, but fortunately, true to Darkrai’s word, the ice bird suffered nothing more than slight disorientation upon awakening.

Since then, despite all the responsibility and the strain of working on controlling his storm-spawning tendencies, Lugia was pleased with the state of things. Little rivaled the joy of settling with his mate after three years of dream visits and conversations, and little could give him more support.

With renewed resolve, Lugia looked out into the distance, though presently his vision barely registered. Telepathically, he reached outward. He was tempted to hover around Modrall again, but he pressed past it and expanded his awareness as far as it would go. It was possible that Mew lived in a completely different part of the world, but nobody had so much as an estimate and Lugia had to start somewhere.

Taking a deep breath, Lugia adjusted his position in the snow and began his search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus the story comes to an end! For the time being, anyway. Thanks for reading - every comment and every view means a lot.


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